


So hot you're hurting my feelings

by Abracadabril



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Harley's a beater, Harley's a hufflepuff (WHAT? SHE IS !!), Pam's a ravenclaw, Quidditch, also bc it's the most chaotic quidditch position of all time, hundred percent based on the fact that they use bats, like ??, okay let's try to kill the opposite team, the hogwarts + enemies to friends to lovers AU not a soul asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abracadabril/pseuds/Abracadabril
Summary: She thought that if this was the person whose hand she was going to hold as she walked through the fire, maybe things wouldn't be too bad.//Pamela and Harley detest eachother so much it circled back to love.
Relationships: Harvey Dent/Pamela Isley, Joker (DCU)/ Harleen Quinzel (only mentioned cause i don't fuck w him), Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 73
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a way to find the style and voice, so I think of it as kind of a prologue, i'll keep writing only if y'all like it tho lol. If that happens the ratings might change as the story develops. 
> 
> Again, i'm not a native english speaker so technically you can't blame me if its all poorly written :)

To ask her exactly when she knew that she hated Harleen Quinzel was to demand of her an immense task of synthesis and summary. So many were the factors, so many the reasons that were piled on top of each other to form the backbone of that poisonous feeling, it would take an eternity and a half to finish listing each one of them, let alone trace them to the very beginning.

She was a Hufflepuff to begin with.  
While the rivalry between their houses wasn't necessarily the main fight on the marquee, that didn't mean it wasn't an ancient, deep wound that dated back to the Middle Ages. A tale of friendship and betrayal between the creators of the emblems they displayed on their robes.

Maybe it could be chalked down to the constant state of eat or be eaten they were subdued to by their red and green counterparts, where their houses as collectives had no choice but to elbow each other in the ribs and poke each other in the eyes to make sure they were the first to the finish line in the race for glory and long deserved recognition.

But then again, why was she, a magnificent, complex creature, expected to tolerate, or even _like _someone so loud and simple minded? so willing to live under someone else's boot as long as it meant being accepted?__

____

She was a _raven _for Merlin's sake. Ravens _ate _badgers.____

______ _ _

Of course she had also heard the rumours, just like every other student with a pair of ears and a brain jonesing for gossip between them.

______ _ _

She preferred to stay out of gossip circles, and tried to keep from forming her opinions based on idle talk, refusing to lower herself to the level of people like her parents, always the first to turn their backs on the victims of the tittle tattle the exclusive community of conservative wizards and witches they surrounded themselves with always seemed to be producing more of.

______ _ _

Still, she was just a thirteen year old girl when she had heard that over the summer, the blonde's boyfriend (already a scandal in and of itself that a third year to-be and a fifth year had been snogging) had had a violent outburst against superstar first year seeker Barbara Gordon. 

______ _ _

Well...he'd found her address, broke into her home and shattered her spine beyond repair with a powerful hex paralyzing her for life, actually.  
Got himself kicked out of Hogwarts both for attacking a student, and for using magic outside of school in the process.  
No one ever understood why he did it. Some even say he did it for fun, just because he could, which was a much more terrifying thought than any of them was prepared to process, the fact that they'd had someone with such darkness walking amongst them, in the place where they were supposed to feel the safest.

______ _ _

So even when she was against punishing a woman for a man's actions, who could blame her for thinking that maybe a girl who had dated a guy like that had to be, even remotely, prone to trouble?

______ _ _

Even when she had tried with all her might to step away from under that shadow, making sure everyone knew how nice and dedicated she actually was, how grateful she was to be in the school and to be a part of the quidditch team, winning her house cup after cup, even when everyone around her seemed to forget or ignore, Pamela saw right through her.

______ _ _

Obviously some reasons went way beyond just house rivalries and shallow things such as town gossip or the time she spilt pumpkin juice on her very expensive gown at their first yule ball, but those existed far outside her emotional processing range, in a tangled knot of which the beginning and the end were hidden from view inside the humongous cluster of fervour.

______ _ _

One maybe she just wasn't programmed to disentangle.

______ _ _

And maybe she wasn't capable of sorting through those with as much ease.

______ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "leave this dumbass disaster bisexual alone"-Dinah Lance

The window was cold against her forehead as she looked out, admiring the view, silently reveling in the joy the first train ride of the year always seemed to instill within every student, no matter what year they were in.

Any thoughts of her life at home that dared to claw and linger at the back of her mind slowly retreated into the dark for the time being, making the bitter taste at the bottom of her throat gradually dissolve and her fists slowly unclench as the foggy green hills enveloped the schoolbound Hogwarts Express.

Looking back down, she snickered to herself at the prospect of hearing no word from her parents for another nine months.

The open book on her lap was heavy enough that she could focus her attention on its weight, not being able concentrate on the words printed inside due to the loud conversation happening around her, which she had absolutely no interest in whatsoever, opting instead to pretend like she was submerging in some very enriching information, trying with all her might to keep from being summoned into it, even as she felt a broad bicep come to rest heavily atop her shoulders, physically pulling her in.

How she had ended in the same compartment as Bruce and Harvey babbling like children about quidditch season when she had planned on finding a solitary space where she and Selina could sit in comfortable silence for the entire eight hours of the ride, was beyond her.

"I think it's time Pam and I changed" 

Interrupted her friend, as if sprung into action by telepathically sensing her best friend's discomfort (which she very well may have done) she thought as she clambered over Harvey's thighs, and if she heard what he said about joining her in the bathroom, she didn't deem it worthy of a response.

_________________________

It was her last year at Hogwarts, and it had taken her a big part of the past six years to embrace the blue and silver tie around her neck, she mused as her fingers dexterously finished tightening the Windsor knot (something she secretly enjoyed doing without magic).

The first time (of many) that she felt dishonorable and dirty was at the age of eleven, the instant the sorting hat had sentenced "Ravenclaw".

The feeling made itself home in the pit of her stomach when she received a cold and distant letter wishing her a good first term that her father had not even bothered to write himself, assigning the task to the house elf if the shaky penmanship was any clue.

That was her, Pamela Lillian Isley, the first of her pureblood lineage not to be selected in Slytherin.

"whatever" she muttered to herself, adjusting her prefect badge in place "it's not like I was born a squib".

Checking herself in the mirror one, two, then three times, _fuck she looked hot_ she stepped back into the corridor, where Bruce and Selina were exploring eachothers mouths like there was no tomorrow.

Just as they had done whenever he could turn his head away for two seconds from the _third eye opening_ debate on how the Ballycastle Bats still had the chance of snatching the international quidditch cup from the Appleby Arrows if they scored enough points in their next match.

 _Disgusting_.

"must you be so vulgar Brucie?"

she had to intervene before her retinas were damaged beyond salvation by the sight before her "what will the children think when they see the head boy snogging his tonsils off with his girlfriend?" 

"I'm sure-"

"I'm not his girlfriend" interrupted the girl, rolling her eyes.

"well that's something we should talk-"

"why don't we start our rounds? I would much rather deal with the second years screaming down there than do this right now" she ended then the argument prematurely, making Pamela remember exactly why she enjoyed being around her so much.

_________________________

"all I'm saying is...she's a bad bitch"

"are you seriously referring to headmistress McGonagall as a 'bad bitch'?" replied the redhead, hoping her voice didn't give away how alarmed even uttering that sentence made her.

"what? don't you agree? and you call yourself an intellectual"

"I agree in sentiment, though I wouldn't use that exact phrasing, since-"

"you're terrified of her?" she finished for her, snickering.

"I'm not scared of anyone darling, it's called having respect. Maybe you should exercise that concept someday" she rebutted suppressing a yawn, shivering slightly at the brisk autumn night air.

They were patrolling the grounds before heading to bed, though they doubted anyone would be up and about at such a late hour, after a day of traveling followed by the incredibly tedious sorting ceremony and the start of term feast, everyone was left extremely worn out. 

The heads had insisted on it though, and try as they might to argue, they were still their subordinates.

This was a touchy subject for Pamela, as she had been convinced she had secured her place as head girl with her outstanding grades in every subject, paired with a little sweet talking her teachers so they'd put in a good word for her, as an extra measurement.

…

…

And then, of course, the second most obnoxious Hufflepuff had been appointed to the position because a "responsible personality is informed by hard work and dedication" as the headmistress had put it when presenting the rest of the student body with their new leaders. "Someone you can rely on". 

Whatever.

That was the way her train of thought was heading right before she was yanked back to reality, as Selina suddenly stilled her pace beside her, ears alert to the sound nearing the heavy doors of the entrance hall.

The rhythmic pounding of quick yet heavy steps against the cobblestones projected as it bounced against the sturdy columns between each arch lining the quad, making them feel surrounded, growing in intensity as they approached its source.

It only stopped as they rounded the corner, and came face to face with the unexpected offender.

_________________________

"bloody fucking bollocks" she muttered as her brain woke up, slowly slipping into a panic as she turned off her phone's alarm clock saved under the name "you overslept you dumb twat"

Which was absolutely what she had done, no matter how many times she stole glances at the numbers on the screen as if it was possible they could revert back to a couple digits ago simply by the sheer force of her stare.

She had yet to master the ability to bend time at her will.

"mum!" she called out to no avail, jumping from wall to wall trying to tug her jeans and socks on at the same time and smashing her knee with the corner of her dresser in the process.

"mum!" she tried again as she slipped into the bathroom. No response.

"She's out you wanker! Pipe the fuck down!" came muffled through the wall of the room adjacent.

"pish awff Bawwy" she spat through a mouthful of toothpaste spraying it all over the mirror. It dripped down and stained her black hoodie before she had a chance to wipe it off.

Not bothering to change out of it, she stumbled back to her bedroom, head already looking around for something before her still groggy mind had time to decide what for.

Her eyes zeroed in on the cage sat atop her messy desk and her heart almost failed her at the sight of it being empty.

"Lou? pspspsps...here boy" she called out 

"..."

"..."

"..."

Yet again she received no response. 

This time it made more sense though, given that he was a toad, not a cat…

...Harley... honestly?

The dilemma that came when this particular piece of information was remembered was one that she maybe would've paid more mind to had the walls not been closing in on her.

On one hand, she could search for her friend the muggle way, take forever, be even later than she already was, and take whatever punishment her head of house could throw her way.

On the other, she could whip out her wand, get this shit over with and never utter a word to anyone.

She tossed the thought around for a fraction of a second before she willed her wand to produce a light at its tip by enunciating her spell _"accio Lou"_ accompanied by a quick flick of her wrist.

She caught him mid air as he floated from the top left drawer of her dresser and put him back in his place, giving him a stern talking to while she strapped her three chests to the luggage cart.

Perching his tank on top of the pile, she exited her room for the last time in what would be months.

She swallowed the knot at the base of her throat as she read the note her mum had left her on the kitchen table.

Her sweet mum, who's health was continuously eaten away by work and the piling debts, still made it a priority to let her know how much she was missed each time she left for school.

She had always felt guilty about leaving for so long. 

Coming from a working class family she'd always expected to be spending her teenage years between low income part-time jobs, trying to offer her mother some relief by taking a bit of the burden she carried and shouldering it herself.

Things had been rough since they arrived from America with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and hopes to escape their past.

Her father was locked away in jail by the time she turned six, but his ghost still loomed over, casting his shadow upon them, weighing them down. 

Which is why Sharon Quinzel had decided that a change of scenery was exactly what her children needed.

Of course, she had never in her wildest dreams expected her little girl's form of escapism, her own change of scenery to come in the shape of a castle hidden behind clouds, where hats came to life and brooms could lift you up so high you could kiss the blue sky.

Taking one last shaky breath, basking in the distinct scent of her kitchen one last time, she pocketed the note, said goodbye to Barry, and stepped over the threshold.

_________________________

She may have been pipe dreaming when she thought her mum could give her a lift all the way to Kings Cross when the woman had to cover a morning shift, maybe that one was on her, but honestly was it really that far fetched to expect to at least get the train itinerary right? how hard was the universe going to make things for her today?

It was a three hour ride with an interchange in between, and having missed the first train, there was no way she was going to make it in time at this point.

Defeated, she scuffed the tip of her shoe against the pavement and sat down on the curb, burying her head in her hands, eyes moving at a rapid pace behind her closed eyelids as she raked her brain for a way out of this situation.

She was in the middle of shooting down the first idea that swam to the upper side of her frontal lobe (there was no way she would ever set foot in Hogwarts again if she was seen by any muggles soaring through the sky in a broom, balancing her luggage on one hand, and a toad on the other) when a new one popped up, pushing it aside.

Holding up her wand, she summoned her last hope.

_________________________

She had always pictured her death a little different. 

Maybe in the midst of a life or death duel, in which the stakes were so high and the fight so hard fought that only her sacrifice would tip the scale in her favour.

Desperate times called for desperate measures though, and if she was going to go like this, in a crash on a magical triple decker bus, then so be it. 

_________________________

It was far later than she had expected to arrive when she flung herself out of the piece of hell on wheels disguised as a mean of transport.

She eyed the tall gates of the entrance, trying to figure out how to bring her tired, hungry and cold body to somehow trespass them without alarming the watchful gatekeeper.

"Good evening miss Quinzel" a gargoyle perched atop the left column greeted her kindly. 

The monstrous stone carved creations were sprinkled randomly throughout the castle, almost as an afterthought, once they went out of fashion. Some rested perched atop windowsills, or under stairwells, the unfortunate ones though, rested secluded in secret passages behind portraits.

She had always thought the whole thing to be a little too cruel, being made to feel, being given a purpose, feeling wanted and important only to be tossed aside the moment you were deemed unworthy of those things by somebody else's judgment.

She empathized.

"She's back? here I was hoping she had gotten herself kicked out" spoke the one to the right, pretending she wasn't standing right there.

Okay, maybe not with this one.

"sod off, ugly, or I'm aiming for the head next time" she said, eyeing the ear she had shattered off with a loose bludger she had batted with too much force during a quidditch match three years ago. Clearly the wound was still fresh.

"why is she obsessed with me?" the mutt pondered out loud.

She ignored it though, grabbing the metal bars and pulling herself up, springing her muscles into action, willing them to support her one last time despite their desire to give out and rest once and for all, after a long day of lugging her heavy baggage around and grasping for dear life at whatever handle she could find to keep from being sent flying through the air inside the Knight Bus.

She landed on her feet on the other side, much to her surprise, and without wasting any time she wingardium leviosa-ed her stuff over and broke into an adrenaline infused run, wanting nothing more than to reach the common room and sleep it all off.

_________________________

Her heart was pounding in her ears by the time she reached the quad. Just a little more. A few more steps and she would be inside, then it was just another quick sprint to the Hufflepuff tower, and she would be home free.

Her footsteps grew heavier and her breath raggedy though, and she wasn't sure when the stealthy part of the mission went flying out the window.

So it shouldn't have been such a surprise when the two figures stepped into the light as they rounded the corner, manifesting out of thin air.

Still, she was sure she had gone into cardiac arrest, as the two women stood before her.

'Okay Hogwarts, it was nice while it lasted' she thought, suppressing an eye roll as the redhead opened her mouth to let her know just how fucked she was.

_________________________

"well, if it isn't the _first_ most obnoxious Hufflepuff" she chuckled at her own private inside joke, making the blonde tilt her head in confusion.

"you keep a list of us, Pammy? I didn't know you were such a big fan" 

"why am I not surprised?" she asked no one in particular, ignoring the accusation "late on the first day… you've had seven years to learn how to read a schedule on your own"

Selina leaned against the wall, amused. She wasn't above enjoying a good passive exchange between these two.

"huh… I must have missed that lesson when I was busy having a life"

"what are your implying? do be mindful of your next words" she warned, already calculating how many points she could take from the house without making it too evident it had been due to personal reasons.

"I know you'd love to hear what I've got to say but sadly I don't want to explain myself to you"

"you arrive late on the first day, sprint through the grounds way past curfew, talk back to your prefects...tsk tsk…"

she began to pace in a slow circle around her, looking her up and down with disdain.

If Harley felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her cheeks grow pink by the heat of her stare, she chalked it down to the utter strength suppressing her deep need to hex the smugness off her smirk was requiring.

"do you think twenty points is a fair sum of points? or should I make it thirty-"

"no one's taking points from anybody"

A smooth voice came from behind her.

Well, now the the podium of people who annoyed Pamela the most was almost complete, but she was sure Bruce was going find a way to stick his nose in their business any minute now.

There she stood with her hands on her hips, the head girl badge pinned above the yellow and black emblem on her robe, shining in the amber glow of the oil lamp on the wall, its glint stinging her eyes, awakening something akin jealousy inside her. 

She was _not_ jealous of Dinah Lance.

"Quinzel here was breaking curfew, if that wasn't evident" Selina spoke up for the first time, straightening her back to face the new addition to the conflict. 

Pamela would've been flattered that her friend was willing to square up against her superior to support her, that is of course, if she hadn't been sure it was purely because the taller blonde had interrupted the one event she had deemed interesting enough to be worthy of her attention that day.

"I'm sure you'd like to revise your statement" added the redhead, already sneering.

"No, I don't, actually. Her punishment is something the head of house is supposed to decide" she reminded them.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Professor Sprout will understand" she addressed her still blushing housemate now. Stepping closer, she grabbed the luggage cart from her, and rubbed her back as she softly pushed her forward, encouraging her to start walking.

"oh" she continued, looking at them over her shoulder "and next time, don't question my authority, _prefects_ " and with that she turned forward again.

Pamela watched their figures walk away from where she stood.

Her eyes hyper focused on the way their arms linked, as her ears caught the faint sound of their giggles drifting through the air.

She bristled

She was _not_ jealous of Dinah Lance.


	3. Chapter 3

The first week was going by slower than usual.

Her biggest challenge so far had been trying to swat away Harvey's wandering hands under the desk whenever they sat together, since there was never much for her to do the first few days, as she was used to speeding through the required texts beforehand.

The transition from sixth to seventh year seemed, at first glance, not to have come with a big change in the curriculum content, though she had learned years ago not to make that judgement so early in the term.

Most of her classes were advanced, which meant almost every one of her professors used a big portion of class time to remind them to open their books and study every day in preparation for the N.E.W.T exams that would come at the end of the year.

Advice she obviously didn't need.

So she sat through every lesson, watching as the seconds trickled by, slowly turning into minutes and then into hours. Time like a liquid leaking slowly from a dropper.

She didn't really mind though, the slow pace was not unwelcome. She loved school. Not only because it fulfilled her need to expand the horizons of her mind, no, her affection ran much deeper.

The castle was her home. Its walls had not only seen her grow, but they had also presented her with the sense of comfort and safety Isley Manor had always failed to give her.

While other wealthy children most likely believed there were more sophisticated institutions they could be attending, or that studying was a waste of time (since success was guaranteed in their future regardless, by doing nothing more than being fortunate enough to be born into a silver spoon family and brandishing their surnames and crests like weapons, their vaults swimming in gold their shields)

Pamela had, ever since she learned how numbers worked, been counting down the days until she turned eleven, and her exit ticket came flying into her waiting hands in the shape of a parchment letter signed by Minerva McGonagall.

Every summer between the end of a school year and the begging of the next, her heart grew heavier, her mind miles away, finding solace by picturing her common room and the plants of the green house.The nasty feeling in her chest dissipating as her tear away calendar thinned out, and the first day of September approached.

Hogwarts had introduced her to Selina. Her friend. The first ever.

It had made her feel important and special.

And even though she rarely allowed herself to be sentimental, she let her chest ache a little at the thought that this time next year, she would no longer be here.

So she crossed an arm tight around herself, hugging her robe close to her chest, and took the boy sat next to her by the hand, looking down at the strange way in which his squarish fingers constricted hers, how his rough palm oddly scratched the soft skin of hers, as professor Flitwick's squeaky voice called each of their names out loud, taking attendance before his Thursday afternoon charms lesson began.

He was an interesting man, had taught the subject for ages, and was no doubt one of the most gifted duellers in the world, having fought both Wizarding Wars as well as the Battle of Hogwarts and lived to tell the tale. What he lacked in size, he made up for in knowledge. 

He, as head of Ravenclaw, had made her proud to have been sorted into the house at a time when simply sporting the raven emblem made her stomach churn.

Although at first his teaching methods had made her a bit wary, as he was fun and lively just like his classes, and Pamela, ever so uptight and repressed even as a child, had felt a little out of place in them, with time and patience he was able to crack her hard exterior ever so slightly, pushing her to become one of his best students.

He had been the main promoter of her joining the duelling club in her third year, prodding at her to "not let her potential go to waste, miss Isley" until she gave in, much to her mother's dismay.

"at least I'm not playing quidditch, mother" she had written in a letter, trying to persuade her to get off her back. It had worked, of course, since there was nothing more unladylike in Lillian Rose Isley's eyes than quidditch.

"any volunteers?" he asked, knowing full well her hand would shoot up.

So she let go of Harvey's hand and got up, sauntering to the front of the class to show off her non verbal spell skills.

_This_ was more her speed.

____________________

Her patrolling partner and her had been separated that night. 

Selina was now paired with Dinah, while she had been sentenced to walk aimlessly around the fifth floor with Bruce, annoying her to no end.

This had clearly been some sort of plot against her by the Head girl, who she was sure had come up with the idea and somehow convinced him it was the best course of action, because why on earth would anyone force her to be alone with the boy if not as a way of retaliation.

"so...you and Harvey-"

"no" she stopped him before he even began. There was no way in hell she was going to talk to him about this.

Another thirty minutes in the most excruciatingly uncomfortable silence she had ever experienced in her seventeen years of age passed before he spoke up again, and as he began to (unpromptedly) tell the tale of how he almost got sorted into Slytherin before he asked the hat to place him in Gryffindor, she began listing ways in which she could hurt Dinah Lance without getting in trouble.

  
  


____________________

"The early bird catches the worm" her mother always said, in that way of hers that implied that absolutely everything was a competition (not because she favored hard work, she hadn't worked a day in her life).

Looking back on it, she should've paid more attention to the proverb, she thought as she stepped inside the greenhouse, panting from exertion of having sprinted all the way from the Ravenclaw tower.

If Hogwarts was her home, the greenhouses were her favorite rooms. 

Her playground.

Herbology had always been her favorite subject. She thrived amongst plant life. She had always found a deep, bordering spiritual connection with these fascinating beings, something that most people failed to awake in her.

As human beings proclaimed themselves owners and masters of everything around them, the top of the pyramid hierarchy, too preoccupied exerting their power over each other through domination procedures to obtain obedience, fighting between nations, between muggles and wizards, to see who was going to get to hold the reins next, these lay buried deep in fertile soil, grasped by Mother Nature.

The one true ruler.

Plants seemed to take kindly to her in return, almost as if they recognized the respect she had for them.

So did professor Sprout, and she had to admit she always felt a strange tingly sensation inside her chest whenever a professor let her know how highly they thought of her.

She admired the woman, though she was nowhere near ready to admit that out loud (she wasn't going to give her rivals the satisfaction of knowing she kind of, _perhaps,_ looked up to their head of house)

The woman seemed to be on the same page as her when it came to green life. Always treated even the meanest of Devil Snares with kindness.

Right now though, she didn't seem to like her all that much, judging by the way she was looking at her for interrupting the beginning of her lesson.

"Miss Isley. How nice of you to join us, please pick a partner and sit"

There wasn't a very large pool of partners to pick from though, as everyone had already settled next to someone.

Scanning the room, her eyes landed on the only available option, and she had to fight the impulse to turn around and just leave, good student reputation be damned.

The blonde pulled the stool out from under the work table with a smirk, beckoning her over.

____________________

  
  


To her credit, Harleen was handling herself fairly well.

They had a copy of Goshawk's Guide to Herbology open between the two of them, so they could both read, also doubling as a barrier between their bodies, a frontier of their personal spaces.

They were working with Venomous Tentaculas for their first lesson, which took absolutely everyone by surprise, what with it being a bloody _carnivorous_ plant that secreted deadly venom and released killer spores.

Its appearance was as horrifying as its name. It had a thick-stem that resembled a head, with a wide mouth-like opening that ran from side to side, long sharp teeth protruding from within, hidden behind long, spiky brown vines that worked as tentacles, with green leaves near the tips.

However, the blonde did not seem to be scared.

She was eagerly taking note of every one of the professor's indications, on a scrappy, wrinkly piece of parchment.

Her calligraphy was atrocious and unintelligible. She was sure her mother would have an aneurysm if she were to ever lay her eyes upon it.

"okay so, I think this could work, if I distract it and you stun it" she said. 

Exactly who had told her she was the one in charge, the redhead couldn't figure out.

It was too early in the day to start a petty argument, though, even for her, so she played nice and went with it.

She put her dragon-hide gloves on and prepared to make her move, adopting a ridiculous fighting stance. Making Pamela get the urge to shove her own head inside the plant's mouth, so her torment would end.

Suddenly she pounced, jumping forward and snatching the plant by its pot, her sharp reflexes allowing her to duck every time a vine attempted to wrap around her neck. 

One tentacle wrapped around her forearm, the spikes digging inside the leather of the gloves, no doubt making contact with her skin, and she was caught.

"do it!"

" _diffindo!"_ she pronounced, a white beam of light emanated from her wand, and she made a flourish, guiding it to cut each one of the extremities off.

And the monster was defeated. She smiled to herself a little.

The blonde did too, as deposited the heavy pot back on the table, and took her gloves off, extending a hand in her direction.

Was she expected to take it?

She supposed she was, so she did, thinking of it as a reward for the blonde's bravery, or something.

She did good, so she was going to get to touch her.

Yes, that seemed right.

The hand was clammy and warm in contrast to her own cold one, having been inside the thick fabric of the gloves.

She looked down, examining the appendage. 

The fingers were long and slender, like her own, though slightly crooked, probably from cracking her knuckles, palms calloused but manicured. The nails were short, bitten, covered in chipping red and black nail polish. Her grip was strong, a sign of a strong personality she thought, taking her hand back, ignoring the goosebumps at the nape of her neck and the way the pit of her stomach seemed to light up.

"well done girls" professor Sprout's rich voice came floating all the way from the other end of the room.

  
____________________

The library was close to empty, she gratefully noticed as she sat down, save for a few kids sprinkled here and there, who were, like her, studying individually.

Good for them.

She was halfway through transcribing a sentence that stood out to her from a Muggle studies book, when she entered. 

The girl's features were soft, friendly.

Thefreckles that crossed the bridge of her nose made her look young.

She _was_ young, she couldn't be older than sixteen, although something deep behind blue eyes denoted maturity, something made her soul seem jaded.

The red hair was like her own, but shorter, styled a different way. 

It had been what drew her eyes to the younger girl in the first place, the first time she saw her in the great hall, sitting a few feet down the table, a new addition to their house.

Something inside of her knew that big things would be in her future, the fire in her eyes told her so.

If she had known exactly _what_ big things though, she would have regretted putting the thought out in the universe. 

The girl smiled kindly in greeting, and the wheelchair stopped at the table in front of hers.

The open copy of Flying With The Cannons, and the look of longing in the eyes of Barbara Gordon as she traced the moving images of Quidditch players mid flight with her fingers, made Pamela's chest constrict over her heart for the second time that day.

A new record.

Then anger made her heart flare up.

Fuck him for doing this to her.

Fuck everyone involved.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

The smell of breakfast being made woke her up from her deep slumber.

She cringed as her eyes met the bright yellow glow of the room, silently cursing the girls for yanking the curtains wide open so early in the morning.

Sitting up once her pupils adjusted to the light, she looked around the room, taking in the familiar sight of the empty beds, a sigh escaped her lips.

Sometimes she wished her roommates slept in a little later, so she wouldn't wake up alone.

Pulling the covers off her body, she stood up, stretching her arms overhead, feeling the physical pleasure that awakening the muscles for the first time in the day gives the body.

She threw on the first thing she found in her trunk, which had yet to be unpacked.

Diana had offered to do it for her.

"Let her lazy ass do it herself",Dinah interjected, though she clearly hadn't paid much mind to her friend's indications.

It was finally Saturday and that meant she got to wear whatever she pleased.

She liked the uniform, but sometimes a break from the knife pleated skirt and the black mary janes was welcome.

Her inner thighs were still raw red from the skin rubbing together when she forgot to apply baby powder the first day, so sweatpants where the best option, she decided.

The common room was almost empty by the time she made her way out, which meant that the other kids were either still sleeping, or already having breakfast.

It was a beautiful space. A basement modeled after a badger's burrow. It's windows were ground-level giving them a nice view of gardens, all one had to do was look up to watch the grass sway in the wind. When in full bloom, the dandelion's yellow petals made the view a little softer.

Being a circular room, the sun was always present inside, painting the atmosphere from a whitish-yellow in the early morning, to a warm orange during the sunset.

Harley's favorite part though? it always smelled like food. One of the perks of being next to the kitchens.

The first time she had ever set foot inside the Hufflepuff basement, she squealed in delight. 

She had genuinely adored her house since the beginning. It's sigil and it's colours had always sparked joy within her.

Having come from a muggle family, she hadn't known the first thing about the Wizarding World's pop culture before coming to school, therefore she had no way of knowing that Hufflepuff was not necessarily the most envied house.

Quite the contrary, they were more often than not considered the runts of the litter.

So she had made it her personal mission to bring in some much needed house pride.

That's why she joined the quidditch team as soon as she was allowed, working hard with her teammates, pushing the team to eventually become the strongest one in the school's small league.

Undefeated champions three years in a row, she mused, her chest puffing with a warm feeling.

She couldn't wait until they picked training back up, nothing brought her more satisfaction than donning the canary yellow robes, nothing felt better in her hands than her beater's bat.

The voice deep within the walls of her brain believed otherwise, however, the name of a certain redhead echoing within her for what must have been the thousandth time since herbology class the day before. Her hand was elegant, dainty and smooth and although she didn't want to be one of _those_ people, she couldn't stop thinking about the energy that had emanated from the point where their skins had touched.

They had never gotten along, which at first made Harley a bit sad, she loved making friends, wanted to bathe in the warmth of their attention.

With time though, she made peace with it, she figured not everyone was going to take kindly to her personality, which was really okay.

If Pamela Isley wanted a rival in her, a rival she was going to get.

Plus, the attention was certainly still there, only spiked up with a little extra something, which she secretly loved.

So the ease with which they had fallen into place, working together to get the job done, had come as a shock.

Harley had, for the first time in a long time, (since her classes upgraded to N.E.W.T level and the difficulty increased, to be more precise) done something right in class, even earning a pat on the back from the professor.

She blamed the whole thing on the tension they had built between them over the years. Enemies make you stronger and whatnot.

Yes, that definitely seemed a better option, way easier than dissecting what it actually meant.

Hoping a full english would mask the flutter in her gut, she started towards the great hall, where breakfast awaited her.

____________________

As it turned out, not thinking about the girl proved to be more complicated than she expected. 

Something harder to sweep under the rug, not even by eating.

Not only because her brain was apparently in the business of making it impossible to stop picturing her, as if the character that represented her subconscious had awakened that morning with the sudden, unprecedented urge to wallpaper every surface of her brain with posters of the woman, but also because in a very literal way, she was everywhere. 

Although at breakfast she had sat with her back to the Ravenclaw table, as usual, (some faces that she preferred to avoid, for everyone's sake) she had seen her fleetingly as she entered, eating a spoonful of oatmeal and moving a piece of sausage around her plate while Selina, who had clearly abandoned her place on the bench at the Slytherin table, as always, moving through space like it was hers, like she was way above rules (she was), sat beside her filing her nails and telling her a story she clearly wasn't too invested in telling judging by the look in her eyes.

She spent the entirety of breakfast with her back stiff, because even though she knew that the girl was probably not staring at her, as her brain tried to make her believe, her mere presence made her muscles contract, as if her body was expecting something her mind was still struggling to process.

What fuck was wrong with her?

In retrospect maybe the second instance had been her fault. Maybe she had asked for it, in a weird, twisted way.

Maybe she should have said yes to Helena when she asked her if she wanted to play one-on-one on the Quidditch court, since no one was going to be needing it so early in the year.

She usually never said no, the Gryffindor was a great player and training against her was exhilarating, but as tempting as the offer to soar through the sky for the first time in months sounded, duty called.

The duty in question? Pass herbology.

That's why she had gone to the library.

Generally, she read outside, in the sunlight. Not because she liked nature all that much, insects terrified her, but because the thought of staying in the library willingly for longer than the bare minimum seemed to her an invasion of space that even _she_ was not willing to infringe, knowing that what could be saved of that girl whose future had been so cruelly taken from her, inhabited that space.

The sight of all that wheelchair bound potential made her stomach churn, even more so knowing _who_ was responsible.

Even more knowing she could have done _something_ to prevent it.

Maybe she was an accomplice, and she would carry the weight of that implication for the rest of her life, but she certainly wasn't mean, and she wasn't going to rub salt in the wound.

Which turned out to be a huge problem when she tried to check the book out and Madame Pince stopped her, yapping something about her never returning them and all the hours of her life she had lost trying to get them back after the blonde left them scattered all over the castle and its surroundings.

So there she was, on a Saturday afternoon, confined to the library with no escape from her inner demons.

Great!

The whole thing could have ended very quickly, had the words in the book not been undecipherable.

Fuck Selina Sapworthy and her stammery way of writing.

Seriously, how much could one go on and on when explaining the origin of the name of a carnivorous plant?

That was the mystery she had been busy solving when out of the corner of her eyes she saw a red flare, like a fire rapidly approaching to devour her.

Even though her body had braced in preparation for the worst, for some kind of impact, to endure the throbbing pain of some curse thrown her way in revenge, that never came.

Although maybe this _was_ the worst case scenario because even though the Ravenclaw redhead wasn't exactly the one she was half expecting to find here, somehow this was way worse.

She was facing the other way, her back turned to Harley, but her perfume, a mix between floral and fruity that she had never been able to decipher in the seven years of inhaling it, and her hair brushed to perfection (to go to the library? seriously?) were unmistakable.

And if focusing on whatever the text said about how the fuck to use a Snargaluff in potions had been hard up until this point, now it was practically impossible, because the part of her brain capable of retaining information had joined forces with the part in charge of paying attention, and both had fixated on the girl in front of her.

Fighting against her own eyes, that turned upwards to look without her even commanding them to, she took the book in a vice grip, until the hard edges made her palms hurt, and even then didn't loosen it.

The possibility of Pamela Isley having some percentage of Veela's blood, or perhaps mermaid, or any mystical creature that used her physical attributes and charms to attract her enemies in order to destroy them, had never occurred to her before, but maybe that was what was happening.

Maybe she had absorbed some kind of poison the girl excreted through her skin when their hands made contact and that's why she couldn't stop thinking about her.

"If there's a reason why you're staring, it better be a good one"

Harleen Frances Quinzel was not about to be eaten by a magical creature. No sir.

"How could you tell I was staring?" Oh shit maybe her theory wasn't as far fetched as she thought.

"You're admitting it then. You were staring"

_Bloody hell_

"I'm just looking forward. It's normal for me to look forward. A lot of humans do it. Most humans, actually."

"Shhhh" Madame Pince demanded from where she sat at her desk.

"It's a normal posture. It's not my fault that you sat in front of me. Maybe it's you who wants to be stared at deep down, and that's not my fault either" she concluded with a nod, decidedly ignoring the fact that she was rambling.

"Was I supposed to listen to all that? also this is my usual spot, and I would love to read without you boring holes on the back of my head"

"fucking bitch" she muttered looking back down at the words in the book, trying to memorize them somehow. 

____________________

Obviously, forcing her brain to comprehend hadn't been the most pedagogical way of learning because there she was, with a thrumming headache between her eyes and at the base of her skull both from having forgotten her glasses (all the way back home) and from the position she had been sitting in for the past hour and a half, still no knowledge acquired, and the biggest frustration she had felt in a while.

She was smart and very capable, her grades were high and she was taking a few classes at N.E.W.T level, and while she hadn't expected her last year to be necessarily _easy_ , because whenever she thought she had something figured out Hogwarts made sure to prove her wrong, she hadn't been counting on things getting so tedious _this_ early in the term.

She may not be a genius, but she came from a completely different world, everything she had learned in the past several years, she had done from scratch, _everything_ raging from how to properly pronounce her spells in latin to how to make love potions, had been completely foreign concepts to her, things she had never imagined were possible before, let alone heard of, so she had always thought it was okay if sometimes her scores weren't exactly the most outstanding.

How could they be, with people like the redhead in front of her, who had gone through almost 2 quarters of a very thick book in the time it had taken her to jot down exactly _nothing_ in the piece of parchment where the most important parts of every paragraph were supposed to be transcripted?

She was still proud of herself regardless, because she was crafty and insistant enough to find a way out of situations like this one, she was savvy in a different way, where it counted. Street smart if you will.

Which was exactly the kind of skill that passing this subject's exam at the end of the year was going to require, by the looks of it.

Eyeing the girl, she made a decision.

If she played her cards right she may leave this library with a new tutor.

Or perhaps missing a limb, it really depended.

____________________

"Sure, come, sit" deadpanned the Ravenclaw when she plopped down beside her unannounced and unprompted.

This wasn't exactly how she had been scheming to move, but as she was going through courses of action, the redhead had started closing her book, a clear sign that she was about to leave.

She had to move fast.

"So listen...Pam-"

"Not Pam"

"Right...Pamela?" she tried again. 

No answer came so she took that as a sign to keep going.

"So listen, I was thinking-"

"Oh?" bitch.

"-you know how you're so smart and like to feel superior to everyone else?" that wasn't going to help but she just couldn't help herself.

"Okay well, this has been fun Harleen" she said, visibly already tired from this exchange. She wasn't going to sit and be made fun of when she, for once, had not been the one to throw the first stone.

"No! wait! I'm uh… having trouble-" she ignored the librarian's glare, too preoccupied with the one she was currently receiving from her classmate.

"Not surprising"

"-with herbology. And I was kind of hoping you could help me, since we made such a great team the other day" she took a deep breath for this next part, trying not to cringe too outwardly "Maybe we could call it a truce?" God this was hard "Or not...you get to make fun of me all you want, but just... please, I need help. " Three...two...one "And I know you're good" Ravenclaws loved to be recognized and praised for their knowledge and while it was physically painful for her to be complimenting this woman, she really did need help. 

That last part seemed to do it.

"I guess I could take a look" she answered eyeing her nails. 

Success.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley uses nicknames and Pammy's mask slips a little.

"He sounds like a twat " said the blonde, laying her head on her folded arms on top of the table.

"How can you possibly say that?" she asked, aghast.

They were three weeks into their tutoring sessions, which they had implicitly decided were going to be limited to an hour and a half every Saturday afternoon, because while the hostility had certainly been toned down on both their parts, purely out of a necessity to milk their time together for all it's worth, rather than because they were actually making the effort to like each other, they were still nowhere near ready to spend a longer amount of time one on one, pointedly avoiding each other every other second of the week.

Pamela didn't quite know why she had agreed to this.

She certainly enjoyed bragging about how much she knew to anyone who was willing to listen, that was for sure. And the fact that it was this particular person, who had always used this quality of hers as the main axis on which all the main criticisms she held towards her rotated, the one who had willingly _asked_ her to do it in order to _teach_ her, felt like a reparation of sorts.

Maybe she had woken up feeling charitable the day this had been proposed to her.

Or perhaps the despair and frustration she had seen in the girl's eyes moved something within her. The fact that someone who couldn't really stand her was willing to come to her when in need made her feel a certain kind of validated and wanted, even, in one of its more convoluted variants. (Not that she allowed herself to linger on this particular thought for too long).

It wasn't all that bad she mused, eyeing the girl in front of her.

She wasn't nearly as irritating as she had expected, and her voice couldn't reach those painful highs that always made her cringe as she heard it projected through the air whenever they were in the same vicinity. Not if they were confined to the library at least.

To be fair, Harleen was a lot brighter than she initially thought. Where she had been expecting an irredeemable case, there turned out to be a fairly proficient girl who just needed a nudge in the right direction. 

She enjoyed partaking in academic back and forth and had a somewhat large amount of knowledge in other areas that she could use as a supplement whenever something wasn't very clear after her explanation.

That's not to say things were necessarily easy.

Some concepts were still very unique and specific to the subject, and seemed to frustrate her when she didn't get them on the first try.

That's exactly what was happening. 

They had been dedicating class time to defoliate the previously stunned venomous tentaculas so they could use them in Potions, so Pamela saw fit to show her one of the most important writings on carnivorous vegetation she had ever come across: Newt Scamander's notes.

Professor Sprout herself had showed it to her the year before. It was an essay that the man had written in his years as a student more than 100 years ago, it rested stuffed in a secret part of the library, lost in a sea of books, and she had found it fascinating.

The blonde hadn't, clearly.

She rolled her eyes as soon as his name came up, in fact, dedicating every word that came out of her mouth in the past thirty minutes to try and steer the conversation to whether or not Newt Scamander really was "hot shit".

This seemed personal.

"He is _the_ most studied magizoologist. In. The. World" she continued, accentuating every word.

"Uhh, good for him? I still don't like the way he writes" she paused then, recalculating. "Back up, did you just say 'he IS'? the man's still alive?!" Madame Pince was about two seconds from hexing her.

"Yes, he is" she answered, pinching her nose. "And he is one of the most important wizards of his time if you ask me. His research on Obscurials was unprecedented, and not only did it save lives, but it changed the paradigm. People didn't even know what those creatures were before!" she stage whispered, feeling her chest flutter with a hot feeling. "He single handedly brought the issue to light!"

Harley was now peaking at her with one eye, her face still hidden but slightly turned upwards in interest.

She had never seen passionate Pam Isley up close.

The girl was usually very calm and collected, even in the heat of battle held poise and elegance above all, which irritated the blonde to no end, seeing how she could come face to face with her, exchange catty words, turn around and leave without a hair out of place.

Right now though, her hands were slowly coming alive, the invisible rope that bound them to their predetermined position, locked in front of her body, was little by little slipping out of its knot, allowing her to gesticulate.

She was still talking, though the blonde had stopped listening, instead focusing her one available eye on the sight before her.

Her teeth became unsheathed to bite her glossy bottom lip, making the pink flesh momentarily white, and her brow furrowed as she thought how to best word her next sentence, still intent on showing her every point of her argument.

She fleetingly wondered whether her lip gloss was vanilla or strawberry.

There was a slight blush painting her features, maybe caused by the heat the fire in her eyes was emanating.

The golden flecks swimming in green seemed to shimmer.

This was a sight for sore eyes, she thought to herself, feeling privileged she was getting to see this new facet. She doubted many people had before.

"... one of the more extraordinary Hufflepuffs" that was the part that yanked her back to reality.

Quickly taking in the ending of that sentence, she sat up straight, a smug smirk split her face and a glint danced in her blue eyes.

"Pammy… do my ears deceive me?" she asked with fabricated perplexity, daring to take a leap and address her by a nickname. "You don't happen to... idolize a… Hufflepuff...do you?"

The slight blush turned into a full on beet-red-face one, almost as if her skin was trying to hide her features by camouflaging with her hair.

Her usually sharp tongue had knotted in itself, her expression growing flustered by the second. 

As this new angle of the girl before her came to light, she found herself thinking, for the first time ever, that Pamela Isley was _adorable_.

____________________

"Alright everyone! Gather round!" Bruce's voice commanded. 

When had it grown so deep, she hadn't been able to pinpoint.

She chuckled to herself remembering fourteen year old Bruce Wayne's constant voice cracks, something she used to enjoy making fun of him for. 

She couldn't enjoy such a treat anymore, life can be so cruel.

This is not to say she hadn't found new things to pick on him about since. Every moment she spent in his presence (not a short amount, thanks to not only her best friend dating him, but also because she was dating?... seeing?...his own).

The Great Hall's tables had been pushed aside, replaced by a long narrow mat in the middle. It was navy blue and showed the phases of the moon embroidered in gold thread, a donation from the Ravenclaw tower decades ago.

The room wasn't packed, but with everyone gathered in a circle, she couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

There were quite a few of them though, maybe way too many. 

Before the club opened for inscriptions, they were only 22, and even that number was too big for her liking.

Now that they were up to 60, she had to fight the sporadic waves of anxiety that told her to turn on her heel and leave.

She didn't _want_ to leave. Duelling club was something she _enjoyed_ , she repeated like a mantra as Bruce now flanked by (of _fucking_ course) Dinah Lance went over the rules.

Suddenly the room grew quiet as the doors opened and the last member made their way in.

She couldn't quite figure out what was more uncomfortable, the fact that you could hear a pin drop, or that everyone was acting as if the girl wheeling her way into a flighting club wasn't a surprise, like they weren't taken aback. 

They couldn't even look at her without wavering, choosing instead to plant their eyes on the ceiling or on the floor,the hypocrites.

On her part, the girl made her way to the front of the circle with her head held high, paying no mind to the strange looks shot her way. 

_Good,_ Pamela thought.

They wrote their names on strips of paper and placed them in a bowl, to avoid biased partner picking. 

Her paper read Barbara Gordon. Not that she felt any kind of way about that. She _was_ going to go soft on her though, but only because she was a seventh year who was up against a fifth year and she wasn't insane. 

The other redhead asked they go first, so they stepped up to the mat, wands at the ready.

She hadn't even finished extending her arm when a beam of light came at her from the other end of the room.

"Confringo!" the girl cast her way, sending a blast at her feet, causing the laces of her expensive shoes to catch fire as she jumped out of the way, barely missing it.

Putting the fire off first to avoid its spreading, and pronouncing an answer spell in the same breath, she shot a strong Levicorpus her way, but the daze from the first attack made her stagger a little, giving her opponent time to shield herself with a "Protego!" 

She didn't let it deter her though, flicking her wrist the other way trying a trusty Stupefy to put the girl out of her misery before it even began, making sure not to make it too powerful, not wanting to hurt her too bad.

That's how she learned to never judge a book by its cover. Truly learned, as she was suddenly on the receiving end of a shower of spells, flare after flare, hex after hex that she struggled to dodge.

"Prote-" she tried to utter, to no avail, because Barbara Gordon interjected with a final "Expelliarmus!" and suddenly the world turned as she shot back a good few inches and landed on her back, lungs deflating with the impact. 

Looking at her right hand she noticed it was empty. She had been disarmed.

____________________

  
  


"It's because of the chair" a soft voice stated, pulling her out of her own head.

She looked down to find Barbara wheeling herself to match her steady pace.

"Merlin! where did you come from?" she didn't even bother hiding her surprise, her icy mask had been cracked twice in the same day, what would a third time do.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about"

"You were pulling your strength" she clarified "Is it because of the chair?" her nostrils flared a little and her back squared as she asked once again, eyes fixed ahead. "Because if it is, I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"It's because you two years _below_ me Gordon" she interrupted "Also because, it was your first duel".

She stopped walking to look at her housemate before saying her next words, hoping the sincerity she felt was palpable through her eyes somehow.

"Don't think I'm going to go easy on you just because you can't walk. That's far from the case"

"And I don't normally say things like this but today's been an odd one, so consider yourself lucky" she cleared her throat "You gave me a run for my money in there, and that will not stand, so get ready for next Saturday, because now that I know you're good, there's nowhere to hide, darling"

Finishing with a friendly wink, she resumed her walk towards the Ravenclaw tower.

The girl behind her snickered, and she exhaled a small gust of air she hadn't realized she had been holding.

She genuinely liked her, as far as Pamela ever came to like someone, that is, had always found her interesting.

Secretly, she envied her, in a healthy way, as she was one of the smartest people in the school's _history_ , her grades were off the charts and was Professor Flitwick's ultimate favorite, his unspoken protegee (Maybe she should've guessed the redhead would be an exemplary duellist), and the last thing she wanted was to offend.

"Be careful what you wish for Isley…" the glint in her eyes went from heated to playful.

"I'll see you in the common room" and with that her figure evaporated in a swirl of white smoke.

She knew how to apparate already? 

Pamela was fucked.

____________________

  
  


"Alright truth or dare"

"I'm not playing truth or dare with you Harley I'm literally writing you a note for breaking curfew as we speak".

"I can't believe I'm being punished for being a business woman".

"Selling stink bombs in the middle of the night isn't a business. Come on I'm taking you to Professor Sprout" she said.

It was Sunday night and she wanted nothing more that to lay her head on a soft surface after a long day of coming up with excuses for not having to snog Harvey for longer than the bare minimum.

Her stomach still churned at the thought of the bacon she tasted on his tongue after breakfast.

"Aw come on! I thought you didn't hate me anymore!"

"Exactly _who_ told you such a thing? And this isn't because I hate you, it's strictly procedural".

"..."

"..."

"Truth or dare"

She sighed, exasperated, her head was starting to hurt from rolling her eyes too much.

"Truth, I guess"

"You don't hate me anymore, do you?" asked the blonde with a knowing smirk.

She only answered when they reached Sprout's office, a long ten minutes later.

"...no… I suppose I don't…"

____________________

  
  


It wasn't until Monday at breakfast as she was stifling a chuckle behind her hand while Harley made faces at her from across the room that it hit her full force:

Had she made two friends without really meaning to? 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y'all tweeting #RenewHarleyQuinn and @ HBOmax and TheDcUniverse or what ?!?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley realizes and then she can't stop realizing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm claiming the HP series from now on we don't know a Jk Rowling
> 
> I literally wrote this last night and it wasn't proof read, you've been warned, but I wanted to post something before a midterm I have this week. 
> 
> :)

"Well done Harleen" the woman smiled

"Now extract the pods. _Carefully_ " 

She ignored the pointedness of the second sentence, too focused on the praise.

The worst part was over, the long vines that had been trying to attack her were taken care of, all wrapped in a corpulent knot, shaking violently in an attempt to be free.

The opening in the middle of the trunk was now exposed. Cautiously peeking inside, she saw them, many as the seeds on an orange, there lay the Snargaluff pods.

They were green and bigger than she'd expected, about the size of a grapefruit.

Definitely _didn't_ smell like a grapefruit though, _Jesus Christ._

"They used them as weapons against the death eaters during the Battle of Hogwarts" Pamela's voice echoed in her memory, taking her momentarily to the previous Saturday. She could almost smell the scent of bamboo and green apple emanating from her red hair and feel the liquid honey of her voice trying to make things interesting so she would want to pay attention to what she was saying.

She didn't have to try so hard though, lately the blonde was always eager to pay attention to her.

She had always been aware that the redhead was beautiful, because she had, you know, eyes that perceived images.

But it was one thing to see a pretty girl from a distance, and another very different thing to have one lean five inches from your face! Who could blame her for being just a tad entranced?

"Oi! you gonna get to it anytime soon? Should I take a nap?" yelled Selina, successfully snapping her from her reverie from the other end of the room, where she and her Slytherin housemates were growing impatient, and was Harvey Dent snickering beside her? He couldn't even complete the task when it was his turn so he better not be…

Frowning with determination, she got to work.

As she stuck her hand inside the hole in the trunk, the plant shook with force, trying to get her to step away.

She didn't back down though, instead feeling for the closest pod she could grab and wrapping her hand around it. 

Pulling one, two, three times, harder than she was expecting to need to for a _plant,_ she stumbled backwards once the stem joining the green sphere to the trunk gave out.

"TEN POINTS FOR HUFFLEPUFF!" she heard professor Sprout exclaim, and all her housemates broke out in a cheer.

Smiling wide and genuine, she puffed her chest a little, pride overcoming her.

She had worried, when the professor had announced a surprise exam at the beginning of the class, because while sessions with Pamela were wonderful, they were always limited to the theoretical part, and in practice, unexpected setbacks could always arise.

Regardless, she needed to get it right, and if there was one thing Sharon Quinzel had not raised her daughter to be, it was a quitter.

So when Sprout called for a volunteer, after that dumb bellend Chuck Brown somehow managed to make someone's legs turn to jelly (really mate? again?) when trying to stun the dangerous plant, she was the first to march her ass up to the front of the class.

Still standing there, her eyes searched among the many faces until they landed on the green ones she so wanted to see, the glint and the subtle upward curve in them, a sign that she too wanted to smile.

Little winged creatures started flapping their tiny wings inside her belly, and she felt warm all over.

She fought the urge to go over and squeeze her in a bone crushing hug, wanting to respect the girl's boundaries.

While there certainly had been a shift in the frequency between them, a different kind of tension building, a different spark (at least that's how it seemed from where she stood, although in the past her perception _had_ proven to be somewhat distorted, especially when it came to analyzing her relationships with others)they still weren't really _friendly_ per-se, at least not in the way Harley was seeking.

She wanted to go to Hogsmeade with her on the weekends, buy more candy than they could handle and try all Bertie Botts Beans flavors and watch her try to keep an elegant expression when she ate a vomit flavored one.

Maybe read outside when it was sunny, warmed by the sunlight and their coats.

Show her muggle music and dance around with her.

She just wanted to be _closer._

Even more so now that their study sessions had to end, with quidditch season starting soon and practice consuming most of her free time, which meant she would no longer have the chance to hang out with her.

But something was holding Pamela back, that was clear as day, and therefore, as difficult to overcome as the sudden waves of desire to be near her were, she intended to give her space if that's what she wanted.

Also there was that whole "oh shit she's hanging out with Barbara Gordon" thing, as she had labeled the file on the "Pammy" folder in her brain.

The first time she had seen the two redheads laughing together, the sharp pain she felt in her chest was so real that for a moment she thought a rib had pierced her lung, on one hand, because she never laughed like that with her, which, at first, she had thought was because she just wasn't comfortable around people she didn't know that well. Clearly that wasn't the case.

On the other, she was afraid to think that now there was an open possibility for Pamela to truly hate her, irreparably and without turning back.

And she couldn't deal with that, not now that she had come to know how nice it felt to be on the girl's good side.

So maybe there was something holding _her_ back too, she just didn't want to risk having a friend only to lose her soon after, once her past caught up with her and she saw the kind of person she really was, when her truth was exposed, laid in front of the redhead like an open book.

She just wished things weren't so bloody complicated.

As the class came to an end and the kids started to trickle out one by one outside of the greenhouse, she let herself steal a second glimpse, because just a fleeting one wasn't going to cut it.

Yeah sometimes it's better to just take the little bit that you're getting and sit your little ass down, be grateful you got it, because what she saw made her skin crawl in a way she absolutely was not ready for.

There was that Dent bloke once again, waiting for her to come out, on the other side of the glass door, which luckily was so fogged up that she couldn't fully make out the way his big hands wrapped around her tiny waist and pulled her in for a short kiss before they started making their way back to the castle.

The little winged creatures turned into rabid bats, foaming at the mouth with a want to bite someone, and the soft warmth started to sting.

Pushing the sourness rising from her stomach back down as best as she could, she willed her legs to take her to her next destination.

Tomorrow was Saturday, their last ever session, after all, and she was planning on doing something special to show her new friend how grateful she was for her help.

Her hamstrings were screaming for help by the time she got to where she was going, the hills were majestic and all that, but actually walking on them was a pain in the ass. She sometimes wished the school was laid out like a normal muggle campus, because this was insane, she was sweating through her clothes in full November weather.

Panting, she knocked on the door, and as soon as it opened she saw herself enveloped by two huge arms, a long, unkempt grey beard tickled her face, and she couldn't help but smile once again.

"I missed you, Hagrid"

  
  


___________________

  
  
  


"I'm not asking for permission, you know I'm going to do it anyway" she said, rolling her eyes at her huge friend.

"I just wanted to warn you, so you don't freak out when you see he's missing"

He laughed loud as thunder and the entire structure of the house shook, the dust falling from a wooden beam overhead made Bud sneeze, sending snot flying through the air, landing right on her shoe.

He was a big dog, the man had gotten him shortly after his old one, Fang, passed away, and they've been joined at the hip ever since.

He was the ultimate good boy, always gentle, just like all the other creatures the man raised.

Apparently kindness could be learned, regardless of species.

She found herself fascinated by this particular thought whenever her mind landed on it.

How low should a human being, blessed with the ability of empathizing at unparalleled levels, be treated in order to lack the capacity for goodness, something that even the wildest of beasts were capable of learning and displaying?

She used to think empathy was a constant in people, that one couldn't simply ignore it, or not feel it at all. 

That it could be dormant inside a person, but certain circumstances could spark it up.

Life experience proved her otherwise.

'If everyone bad in my life had had the chance to meet Hagrid, to learn something from him, maybe I would never have been hurt', she thought then.

"I'm not one to put limits on yeh kid. You do what you have to do to get yer girl"

"Hey! You're losing the plot old man, age getting to your brain? She's my f r i e n d" she defended, far too strongly, perhaps.

"Sure thing Harley girl" he ruffled her hair and poured her another cup of tea.

  
  


___________________

  
  
  


"Why are you kidnapping me?" 

Their hands were covered by the fabric of their gloves, and still she could feel the tiny shocks of electricity through the layers.

She looked down and revelled at the contrast of hers, worn and fingerless against Pam's smart black leather ones.

'So much for giving her space' she scolded herself, but she had no choice but to snatch her from her seat at their usual spot in the library to drag her outside (hexing the girl into following her seemed a little too drastic), she hadn't had time to take into consideration how Pamela might feel about them being seen running through the grounds hand in hand when, to the general public, they were technically still each other's nemesis.

Luckily no one was mad enough to be outside in this weather.

Except for her, of course.

"Just hurry! Trust me, you're gonna love it!" she said, speeding up a little out of pure excitement, practically singlehandedly dragging the panting redhead uphill.

"Can't we… can't we just… walk?!" she asked with what seemed like her last breath.

She paid no mind to the request though, if anything she ran even faster, propelled by the incline they had now reached.

Just a little bit more.

"C'mon Isley. What, don't tell me you skipped leg day?

"Five points from Hufflepuff"

"Oh, pipe down" she chuckled as they approached a massive tree in the first row at the edge of the forest.

Stepping closer, drawing a strange look from the girl beside her she tapped a part near her shoulder level with her wand. One, two, three, four, rhythmically.

Rhythm was key for this one.

They heard a little squeak, and a tiny green head came out from a hole where a branch used to be.

She offered her left hand (her right one was still lightly holding Pamela's even through there was no need to anymore. If the girl noticed, she didn't say a word) so her friend could climb on it to get closer.

"A bowtruckle..." said the redhead, too in awe to act like her usually composed self, leaning in for a closer examination.

"His name is Frank. Me and Hagrid found his family last year, the tree where they lived was destroyed by lightning, we had to relocate them"

"Hagrid and I" she corrected "Poor thing, that must have been hard"

"He hadn't been born yet, his parents had him here, in their new home.

It wasn't easy for them, though, bowtruckles are guardians of their trees, I'm sure you already knew that. Their purpose in life is to take care of them, they have a kind of ancestral bond with them, or something like that, it's hard to explain"

"I didn't know that, actually" she admitted.

Harley looked at her, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Oh don't look at me like that, I haven't taken a single Care for magical creatures class since third year" 

"And here I thought you were smart enough to handle every class available...well, you learn something every day"

"Okay, moving on" she started, not even bothering to shoot back an answer to that one

"…it's going to sound strange, but I get it, the bond part I mean. I feel that too, in a way…" 

The blonde smiled, of course she would understand. 

"It doesn't sound strange, Pammy" she said, turning to face her, freeing her hand from the grip that joined them together and placing it on her the girl's shoulder instead, squeezing.

"It doesn't sound strange at all".

They were standing uncharacteristically close to each other for their usual dynamic, but neither of them seemed to care.

Something danced in the redheads eyes as they flicked down to her lips for a split second, but for the sake of the moment, she pretended not to notice.

She also pretended not to notice the way her nose was slightly red from the harsh weather, or the way it was beginning to mix with the blush crawling up her cheeks and the tips of her ears, that peeked from under her mane of red hair, the way the light has hitting her just right, making it resemble a wildfire. 

Or the fact that she could smell the scent of her lip gloss. Strawberry, most likely.

Or that it was taking the force of every cell inside her being to not act on impulse and confirm if it tasted as good as it smelled.

Frank squeaked in her other hand, demanding attention, and Pamela was the first to look away. 

"Where uhm...hm… where are his parents now?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"Died during the summer… they uh.. they couldn't adapt...left the little one alone. I've been taking care of him since the beginning of the year, he's still just a baby"

Where was she going with this?

Oh, right.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Winter is going to be harsh for him, and I thought, maybe, if you'd like, you could help me take care of him. Inside the castle I mean"

This seemed to make her want to look at her again.

"Can't you ask Dinah? Or one of your friends?" something in her tone was dark.

"You _are_ one of my friends, I don't care if you don't feel the same way. I wanted to show _you_ because I know you will care. He needs someone who _gets_ him. That's you…you would make him so happy"

"You really think so?"

"I _know_ it. He would make you happy too, when you're all alone in that boring common room of yours"

"It's not so bad. At least it doesn't smell like bacon constantly" she retorted, though the waver in her voice betrayed her.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I wanted to repay you somehow. You helped me with Herbology, and you probably don't think that's a big deal, knowing you" she stopped to roll her eyes."

But it is to me, cause you absolutely didn't have to, yet you still did. I've won points for my house, I'm well prepared for my N.E.W.T.s now, and Professor Sprout's _proud of me_ again. You helped me get that back, that's special to me, and now I want to give you something special in return"

She paused briefly to place Frank on the girl's shoulder, where he immediately found warmth behind a strand of hair.

He must've tickled her because she giggled and _what the fuck_ , Harley just about melted.

"You're giving me a pet because I gave you a few tutoring sessions?"

"A friend" she corrected "Someone other than your awful Slytherin buddies you can talk to, since you won't give me the time of day" that was only half a joke.

"I'm sorry about that. I just didn't-"

"It's okay, you don't have to explain"

"I know, but… look" She sighed.

"I am sorry. I'm uh...glad... we're...f r i e n d s, and shit" the word sounded foreign coming from her lips, like she was trying it out for the first time ever. "I'll take good care of him, promise. This means a lot"

"Whew, I'm glad you liked the surprise. I was beginning to think I should've just given you a book or something"

"Well… a book on muggle science wouldn't have been a bad "thank you" gift. But I guess having a bowtruckle baby is good too"

"Hey! I can tell you all about muggle things! Muggle science, muggle history, muggle literature. I know tons. I used to think I was a muggle after all"

"Seems like a deal, Quinzel, though I think you just want to be the teacher for once"

"I want to look my kids in their eyes and tell them I was the only lowly Hogwarts student who got to tutor Pamela Isley, Minister of Magic"

If she were to be asked to capture the moment when she first _Realized™_ in a picture frame, this one would be it.

Right then and there, as the woman in front of her laughed freely, head thrown back, the little green creature climbing behind her ear and joining her in her melodious expression of joy with tiny happy noises of his own.

She could enumerate the variety of things she felt in that split moment, but that would take hours upon hours.

The main emotion was fear, followed closely by excitement. 

The two always seemed to come hand in hand for her.

This, right here, wasn't just friendship for her, not anymore. 

Not judging by the way her throat constricted at the sound of the redhead's surprisingly contagious laugh, or the way her hands prickled with the need to touch her once again.

This was a full blown crush.

_Oh, bloody hell._

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this took forever, last week was insane, both personally and due to cops being bad, stay safe out there y'all.
> 
> I promise I'll try to keep a somewhat organized schedule, maybe not a specific day, but updates within a week from each other.
> 
> also fuck JK rowling and her transphobic, minority tokenizing ass.
> 
> Oh and this is what a bowtruckle looks like:  
> https://au-bain-marie.tumblr.com/post/171526999099/a-ginny-weasley-i-did-for-cdchallenge-last-year
> 
> thanks for reading !! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: domestic violence/child maltreatment (not graphic), and sex (not too explicit, they are minors though, we been knew but keep in mind)  
> If you feel triggered at all by any of these please feel free to skip <3
> 
> pd: I stg if y'all don't start leaving some mf feedback on this shite... 😭

* * *

"Wait-"

"You want this or not?"

"Yes, but here hmph-"

She smashed their mouths together once again, closing the heavy door of the prefects' bathroom behind him, shoving him so hard his head bounced against it with a loud thunk, but he didn't seem to care.

Who would, with the hottest person on campus grinding up against them? He could've been hit by a truck for all he cared, and still he would've stood up and walked it off to go back to her.

'Ask him to shave' she mentally noted as the boy moved his mouth to her neck, his stubble scratching her uncomfortably.

Heavy hands dropped from her hips to her ass, and it took her placing hers on top for him to finally squeeze it firmly.

He was so adamant on taking things slow every time they did this, which was exasperating, because softness and passion were not concepts she associated with this thing they had. It was not what she was here for.

She simply had an itch to scratch, a need to fulfill, and he was the only man she trusted enough to assign the task to.

Love wasn't part of the equation, never would be.

Of that she was sure, and thought it might actually be for the best, having witnessed the damage that dangerous emotion could cause, how it could rot a person inside out, making them vulnerable, easy to control.

Like an unassuming pig getting fed before its slaughter.

Grasping the collar of his shirt, she pulled herself up, legs wrapping around his waist.

The added weight didn't seem to bother him in any way, as he effortlessly walked their joint bodies further inside the empty bathroom, just as she threw a quick silent spell to keep the door locked.

He was rock hard behind the zipper. 

Good. Showtime.

It's not that she had no regard for his emotions, she mused, spreading her legs where he had sat her down on top of a sink. 

She knew how he felt for her, and honestly, she was kind of grateful it was him she had to pretend to love.

They always shared a bond of some kind, deeper than the one they were sharing right this moment, as he thrust inside her.

Victims of their loving families, they were. Both of them.

Her father loved her so much he was willing to mold her into a respectable witch with his fists and his nasty words, mother loved him enough not to meddle.

Exactly the same way Christopher Dent loved alcohol more than he did his own son.

Harvey was the only one who knew, the full extent at least (Selina was aware her parents where "wankers", as she herself put it, but telling the woman the way they treated her on a daily basis would be virtually sentencing them to death, and she didn't want her best friend to rot in prison).

He had noticed by himself though, all the way back in fourth year, not that it would have taken a sleuth to put two and two together, just the observing eye of someone bursting at the seams with the need to have a person to confide in, someone to relate to.

They had just returned from holiday break at home, where else could she had gotten a bruised wrist?

"I won't tell" he had said, lifting his shirt up, exposing his own injuries, his own battle scars caused by the war and struggle that meant going back home.

For the first time, she felt seen.

Even though they would have preferred she secured someone richer, like Wayne, Harvey wasn't so badly positioned himself, which meant her parents were off her back on the dating aspect at least, and the violence surely was swept under rugs and hidden behind rosewood furniture whenever she brought him home, which was always welcome.

He was a shield, from her parents and from herself and her own closet monster.

Someone she could duck behind so people couldn't see the real her, the hidden, poisonous want that pulsated deep within her, that she just couldn't get rid of.

"Devious", mother had said.

Shuddering as he hit a sensitive spot, she braced herself by grasping the edge of the sink as he sped up.

They usually weren't really for sex in strange places. 

Weren't really for sex, period. She could count on one hand the amount of times they had fucked in the last months, too few and far between for two seventeen year olds living away from home, she was aware.

But she had been so unbearable horny that day, she practically ran inside to find him right after she and Harley parted ways-

Best not to think of _her_ right now. Or the way her eyes left a burning trail on the skin they raked over, as they stood face to face under that tree. Or the way she had been two seconds from kissing her before regaining control.

He pulled out far too soon as he finished, burying his face in the curve of her neck and grunting, blowing hot air against her irritated skin, and her insides screamed in complaint at the sudden emptiness.

Standing up once he stepped back, she made her way to the huge bathtub in the center of the room, stripping an item of clothing with every step she took.

Sweater.

Skirt.

Socks.

She was naked by the time she made it to the edge, exposed to the walls of the castle, to Harvey, to anyone who wished to break the spell on the lock and step inside, she didn't have half a mind to care.

Tonight, she was done. Exhausted. 

Of herself, of the circumstances, of pretending. 

The water was bordering on scolding when she stepped inside, a stark contrast to the still, gelid white coldness growing inside her chest.

She welcomed the way it forced her muscles to relax with open arms, leaning back against the wall with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, letting the bath salts do their work, wishing the minerals could somehow dissolve everything she knew, herself included.

Harvey seemed to know better than to get in with her.

A zipper closed, and footsteps walked further away, towards the door.

She held her breath, waiting for him to leave.

"Pamela?"

"Hm?"

"I love-"

Water reached her ears before the words could as she sunk down, immersing completely.

Her eyes stung when she opened them, maybe from the suds, maybe from the tears burning behind them, possibly both, she didn't really care.

She wished she could stay there forever, warm and free, floating around in foam and floral essences, the world built over the surface be damned.

But she was still just a human, and her lungs fiended for air.

Luckily for her, she was alone by the time she resurfaced, hopefully he wasn't mad she didn't say it back.

She just couldn't do it, not tonight.

Tonight, she was done.

________________

The cold didn't abandon her. 

If anything it seemed to seep out from her pores into the environment around her, successfully pushing fall out of the way to make space for winter climate.

Her Ravenclaw scarf was itchy, a new one her mother had gotten for her, just like she'd done every year before school started.

This of course, wasn't about seeking to give her comfort or wanting her to have nice things, one would be far off to think any of it was about Pamela.

Mother had always used her as a mannequin to dress up, the pretty porcelain doll of her dreams.

As if she were nothing but an instrument, a tool, simply existing as a communication channel of which the seat at the sender end was occupied by Lillian Rose Isley, with the sole purpose of bragging about the family's prestige and wealth even more, the receiver, anyone who should lay eyes on her.

That's how it's always been, new books, new clothes, new bruises to heal from.

She never got to keep anything long enough for it to be softened by use, to smell like her, to truly _feel_ hers. 

Deciding a little itchiness was better than catching a cold, she pulled the fabric up, covering her mouth and nose, just as the yellow clad figures, made their way out onto the field below her. 

They looked no bigger than 7 inches from where she was sitting, far up on the grades, but she could still make out the faces she recognized, Karen Beecher, Dinah Lance with her "captain" band around her arm (of course she was fucking captain), Diana Prince, and there she was, hair pulled up in pigtails, broom tossed over her shoulder and bat in hand, Harley.

"PAMMY! YOU CAME!" she yelled unceremoniously, and every single head turned towards her.

Way to blow a girl's cover.

She responded to the girl's histrionic, full-arm wave with a small flare of her own hand in greeting.

Dinah said something she couldn't make out, obviously about her presence there, and then they all huddled in a circle and stomped on the ground, kick-starting their brooms.

She was so talented. The way she flattened her body against the stick to make it more aerodynamic and veered around, steering the broom in order to avoid getting hit by the bludger while adjusting her arm into position to bat it, were very impressive. Pamela didn't know much about quidditch, but even she could recognize that the girl had something special.

'Lots of upper body strength' she noted.

She knew she practiced gymnastics during the summer, and while she was also unfamiliar with the Muggle sport, it had obviously provided the blonde with exceptional agility and strength that aided the position in which she played.

'I wonder if it shows under the robes' echoed in the darkest corner of her brain. 

Clenching her fist, she was able to ignore it by focusing on the slight pain of her nails penetrating the first layer of skin on their way.

Of course, she had what it takes to play in any position, agility to be a seeker, precision to be a chaser, instincts to be a keeper, but there was something about the beater position that fit her like a glove, perhaps because it was the most adrenaline inducing, and having to dodge a wooden ball flying at high speed towards you and redirect it to hit your opponent meant an energy demand that only someone like Harley Quinzel could step up to.

Perhaps it had to do with the violence the whole thing implied, having the power to physically hurt someone, knowing it's legal, part of the rules of the game, what made her the perfect beater. Something dark swimming in her gaze, ever present, a monster of her own that needed to be fed in order to keep calm.

  
  


She thought of Barbara as another loud crack of the bat against the wooden ball thundered through the field. Did her spine make that sound as it was being shattered? 

Did it hurt like the blow from a bludger? 

Like a swing from a bat?

And, Merlin forbid, did Harley have anything to do with it?

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I finally found a pacing I enjoy for this shit, lets fucking goooo !
> 
> Also twitter oomfie beta read this 🥰 thnx ur sweet


	8. Chapter 8

"So you just...sit there and watch people do... things?"

"Exactly, only it's fun, you make it sound lame". She answered, eyes narrowing in concentration as she tried to catapult sugarcubes into her empty butterbeer glass with her spoon.

They had come to Hogsmeade separately. 

While Harley had come to just stretch her legs around town and spend some time with the girls outside of the school's compound, Pam had stated with a roll of her eyes the second they ran into each other, that Selina had dragged her outside because her skin 'desperately needed vitamin D', or something along the lines.

She excused herself from Dinah and Helena, who were too busy gazing into each other's eyes to shoot back an answer.

Pamela didn't even try to do the same with Selina, who just looked at her with something strange swimming in her eyes, like she knew  _ something _ .

The two seemed to share some sort of secret language that she had always secretly envied from a distance, it was like a link cable connected both their brains.

Their power to communicate without uttering a single word, just exchanging glances, was being executed right before her once again, information traveling from one girl to the other and back again.

When she was satisfied with the answer to whatever she had been asking, she simply turned around and strutted ahead, throwing a "see you for our rounds tonight" to her friend over her shoulder.

So hooking her arm with the redhead, she started pushing through the crowd.

They had found a spot in the far corner of the Three Broomsticks after the redhead nearly retched at the suggestion of stepping inside The Hog's Head.

It was a dingy little bar that Harley loved, for the people that worked there, but mostly because it was within her financial range, something that the fancier coffee shop wasn't, but Pammy wanted to go there, so if it meant sacrificing the sweets she was planning on buying to blow the few coins she had swimming in her pocket in a single beverage then so be it.

"But why? don't you have better things to do?"

"What could be better than binging Tiger King?"

"Wh-"

"It's a riveting story, don't worry about it"

"Nobody called Tiger King can be riveting, Harls" 

_ Harls.  _

Five letters put together to form a word and her brain was collapsing.

The redhead's lips closed around the brim of her cup to take a sip of tea. They were painted a darker red, bordering on burgundy today, debuting fall/winter colors it seemed.

If all winter was going to be like this, just her staring at her friend's red lips and wondering what they tasted like, she was absolutely fucked, because controlling herself to keep from breaking into a crying fit because the girl was too beautiful for her poor and humble eyes was becoming harder by the second, as the lips were now moving and her sweet voice reached her ears but words weren't registering, too focused on the cadence.

"-work anyway"

"Huh?"  _ Snap out of it dumbass your queen is addressing you. _

"How does a TV work anyway? I'm guessing electricity?"

_ Oh you know this one! _

"And you guess right! Basically just a bunch of electronic thingamajigs inside a box"

She then launched into a huge rant of how TV was the greatest muggle invention of the muggle world, which not even she was paying attention to, tuning out her own voice because all she wanted to zero in on was the look in her green eyes as she hung onto every last word she sputtered, as if wanting to file it as new knowledge to use later on.

She tried drag on for as long as she could, because she knew as soon as she stopped talking and the conversation started to dwindle down to nothing, the redhead would bolt, as she always did whenever there was nothing else to say.

Harley was okay with it though, because not talking meant more time to think, and the only thing she could think of with Pam in front of her was something you're not exactly meant to do with your new friend.

She hoped to one day be the person the redhead felt safe enough to be in silence with, but right here and now, in this particular time and place, she knew she wasn't.

So when the silence came, and her friend muttered something about having to meet up with her boyfriend soon, she just smiled and waved, because she didn't trust her voice, not with the stone sitting in her throat.

He was somehow always interrupting, even when he wasn't really there, he was. 

The fact that he existed and he had gotten to Pamela way before she did, gained an important place in her life before she could, and seemed to be her safe place when all she seemed to be was someone to run from whenever things got too quiet, too deep, too personal, was always looming over her, and she hated feeling this way, because she was a lover, not a hater. Hate rarely ever drove her.

And yet here she was, hating Harvey Dent.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The raindrops were solidifying mid fall as she interrupted their journey towards the ground zooming on her broom, cutting the skin of her cheeks in thin, shallow lines, which of course, she didn't feel, every bit of skin exposed to the harsh weather was numb from the cold. 

Not that she cared, she was a badass and it was the first ever match of the year, and absolutely nothing was big or bad or painful enough to make her pull out of the game. 

Not a quitter.

Dinah had been busting her ass during practice, because apparently she had been lacking interest, "half assing".

Whatever, Harleen Quinzel does  _ not _ half ass. Most times.

Her head was just a scramble of  _ shit _ at the moment, between all her classes, incoming midterms (already? how?), the added weight of having regained Professor Sprout's respect and becoming one of her favorites, being held to a new standard but not having the help she used to get in tutoring like she did before, while every other professor kept warning them about N.E.W.Ts.

Quidditch season was opening as well and there was pressure to be outstanding and impress the scouts looking for future players so her dreams of becoming a quidditch star after graduation wouldn't be crushed to death, making her fall into a spiral of despair of which she wouldn't be able to crawl out of, as she wasted her life behind a desk somewhere in the administrative part of some unimportant department in the Ministry of Magic if she was lucky, or behind an apron on a diner somewhere if she wasn't.

And that was just the professional part of her brain, because the other part, reserved for personal things such as leisure, socialization, friends and matters of the heart was just a tangle of  _ -Pamela-Pretty-Pammie-Oh she smells nice- ew Fuck you Harvey- Greeneyesredhair- Boobsboobsboobs!nice _ !!

Which, you know, didn't necessarily make things easier for her at all.

Obviously, having a crush on a girl wasn't new, or a problem. 

It's just, this is the way it's always gone, whenever she started liking someone.

It hit her like a sledgehammer to the head, knocking all its contents off place and rearranging them, so the only thing that mattered was the object of her desire, and her need to please and be pleased by it.

Fixation or obsession? she had yet to decide.

She couldn't let herself walk too far down that path, not again.

How exactly she was going to control that particular poorly caged beast she hadn't the smallest bit of a clue, she thought, as she caught a flash of red, silver and blue, when she whooshed by the Ravenclaw bleacher, flying away from one of the bludgers the Slytherin beater sent her way.

Was she there for her or for Harvey? 

Pulling her broomstick up, she ascended a few feet, momentarily breaking the straight line she had been flying in, making a perfect circle upside down mid air, just in time to miss the ball and fall back in place right behind it. 

Releasing both hands from the stick, she hit it with all her might, expertly aiming at the green clad chaser holding the quaffle, that was dangerously close to one of the hoops.

It hit the back of his broom, sending him spinning out of control.

Diana was quick to intercept the quaffle as soon as his fingers lost their grip on it, and with a right hand throw she managed to get it through the middle ring from her position midfield.

And that wasn't even her strong arm.

He glared at her from across the field, lip curled and and a frown set in his brow.

"Why don't we tone it down, wouldn't want anybody to get hurt" he sneered flying past her towards wherever the quaffle was now, offering possibly the fakest smile she had ever seen and bumping her shoulder, but not too hard, as to go unnoticed. 

Calculated.

"Fuck off, two face" she muttered.

Slytherin was playing dirty as usual, violently swarming any of them whenever they even thought of perhaps  _ gazing _ at the ball, and Selina was getting dangerously close to Karen as the two chased the snitch.

She doubted the usually graceful woman would be silly enough to actually touch her and risk getting disqualified, but the simple fact of racing at high speed shoulder to shoulder with one of the most agile athletes in the school had to be a different kind of pressure, an unnerving task. 

She knew what she was doing.

They were losing a 80-50 which was a little discouraging since they usually were used to winning the first match being a little easier, it was a strategy they had built up over the years, only six matches in the championship, secure the first two, secure the cup.

Dinah was losing it a little bit, because even when she wasn't one to engage in altercations, she was starting to shoot back not so friendly remarks at just about anyone donning green.

Batting the bludger away once again, she dared look at the crowd.

The redhead wasn't hard to find, ever. There she was, standing under a summoned umbrella besides Professor Flitwick with her Ravenclaw scarf covering her face from the nose down, hair a little wild due to the humidity and the wind.

Beautiful as always.

She smiled at her, her signature cheeky Harley smile, and Pamela winked. 

Pamela winked, she  _ fucking _ winked and her gaze was so intense she felt a little heat rising from her lower abdomen, crawling around to her spine and making its way up, all the way to the nape of her neck, cold forgotten, for a split second all she knew was Pam and her stare.

Time seemed to slow down right after, as she turned around to make sure she was meant to be on the receiving end of such a wonder, because perhaps Dent had been right behind her, and she was just in the way.

She needed to make sure it wasn't her brain playing games.

But time, always the little fucker, picked its pace back up and everything seemed to happen in a rush, like when image tries to catch up to sound.

In the same fraction of a second, just as the commentator announced that "Beecher has caught the snitch! Beautifully executed Karen!" she understood that  _ yes  _ she had been winked at by Pamela Lillian Isley.

This had been confirmed when the redhead's eyes widened, her hands flew to where her mouth was under the scarf, and Harvey suddenly crashed into her side.

Yeah well at least he wasn't behind her.

She felt her stomach churn strangely as she fell off the broom, and suddenly everyone was gasping as her body fell towards the muddy ground like the rain was falling from the sky above.

  
  


Her brain shut off for a split second, as if straining to somehow protect itself from any damage, but the loud 'crack' made her body light up with an all consuming pain one last time.

Then everything went dark.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Friday i’m in love” sang Robert Smith.
> 
> He must’ve written the song about them, about this exact moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proof read this look away !!!!
> 
> The p.o.v shift might be weird idk but I had to throw some Pam in there bitch !!

It's crazy how much some things can evolve in just a few days, she thought.

Her right leg was practically pulverized on Sunday.

She had woken up from her pain induced fainting by, well… more pain, one unlike anything she had ever felt.

All she could see when her eyes eased open was a sea of yellow, interrupted only by grey and blue. It was the team, that had been barricading her bed in vigil for who knows how long.

It was dark outside already, so she must've been out for ages. 

The next thing she realized was that there was arguing, she could still hear it faintly behind the high pitched noise taking up space in her ear canal.

" _... wouldn't have happened"_

_" are you suggesting I had something to…"_

_" ...suspicious…"_

Deciphering it was a different story. It did make some sense though, as her eyes finally focused.

Pam was arguing with Dinah. 

Pam was here!

She would've been mortified that the girl she liked had to see her in such a state, if the way her leg was visibly contorted even under her pants hadn't been driving her insane enough not to care.

Every second she spent conscious the agony only grew, sharp and pulsating, and now she was getting a migraine.

Please, please someone knock her out.

"P...Pamm...ie" She forced out. 

Her friends were nice to stay, but she just felt so scared and overwhelmed, and the only thing her most primal survival instinct demanded was the redhead's attention.

Dinah, who wasn't ignorant to the blonde’s budding feelings towards the Ravenclaw, (she hadn't confronted her about it yet, but she clearly just _knew),_ took the hint and commanded everyone out. 

Diana dropped something at the foot of the bed, a makeshift package wrapped in a piece of cloth, then kissed her forehead and promised to visit.

It was her broom, shattered in a mess of wood and splinters.

Just like that, she was alone with Pamela, who upon realizing she was awake, called for the nurse.

The first thing she managed to do was weakly reach her hand out, and she hoped with all her might that she wouldn't choose this moment to want to run away, because Harley _needed_ her right now.

The ever cold fingers interlaced with her own, and because of the contrast they provided she realized she must've been burning up, because her entire body shivered.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, and the redhead's grip faltered just a little, but she made no move to try and take her hand back, which almost made her smile.

"Alright girl, you're practically dust and skin there" Was she talking about her leg? 

"A Brackium Emendo won't cut it, you hear? So I'm going to remove whatever's left and give you some Skele-gro. No don't make that face, would you rather limp around for the rest of your life?"

"No, Madam, she doesn't want that, I promise" Her friend answered for her.

"One spoonful at night, one first thing in the morning, for four days. She'll be good to go in a flash if she doesn't do anything stupid"

She wasn't being addressed anymore, as she wasn't fit to answer.

She just shut her eyes as the nurse's wand lit up in a white beam, and just as she felt the contents of her injured limb begin to vanish, the hand squeezed hers on its own accord, in a secret pattern meant just for them, which gave her one final wave of courage to think 'okay Skele-gro, bring it on'.

Her mouth opened for the potion to be dumped inside.

It was bitter and acidic, but it must've been the good stuff because immediately, she felt a buzzing tingle where her knee would be.

The process was beginning.

She wanted to stay awake, because she felt green eyes boring into her soul, but she was just so tired.

Was she dreaming when she felt the soft pads of her fingers brush the damp hair out of her eyes, so gently she could have sobbed? When one single stroke traced the skin from her brow to the tip of her nose? 

She must've been when the lightest, most fleeting peck was dropped upon her heated cheek.

But then that unmistakable voice whispered a "See you tomorrow" and no, this wasn't a dream.

If she hadn’t been halfway passed out, she would've shot through the ceiling into the night sky like a firework, in excitement, never to return.

'Tomorrow will be better' she told herself, allowing the peaceful darkness to envelope her.

* * *

  
  
  
  


_Her cheek stung. The blow made her head turn, giving her whiplash._

_She deserved it._

_A figure, inhumanly tall and mighty, yet somehow the only benign entity in the sinister room, witnessed the scene. “You don’t”, it chanted, trying to prove her wrong._

_It resembled her, but significantly more put together. Older and wiser. Sane. It urged her to stop, to stand up for herself, “You’re sick” it told her._

_There was laughter, cold and maniacal._

_It came from a different mouth, on a face hidden in the shadows._

_Good, she thought. Keep him laughing._

_‘A laugh a day keeps our monsters away’. It was painted on the ceiling above, written in disastrous letters, the paint still dripping. She read it right behind his shoulder when her back collided with the cold, hard floor._

_Air flew from her lungs._

_His veiny hands bunched her uniform skirt up._

_Did she want this? He did, so she tried not to think about it._

_How would worrying help, when he would take whatever it was that he wanted either way?_

_The figure moved closer, closer, coming to stand over the two of them. It reached its hand out and touched her forehead, its shape becoming translucent and amorphous._

_It seemed to push inside her, fusing with her, and suddenly they were one._

_She saw clearly now. She was complete._

_Green hair and vacant eyes still floated above her, his gaze sitting on her like a heavy stone. She couldn't escape._

_With the new found courage the being gifted her, she fought back, shrieked with rage and punched with all her might._

_The monster above her stepped back, but it wasn’t over. Far from it in fact._

_He drew his wand, and hissed an incomprehensible sentence, aiming at her leg._

  
  


She punched the air, eyes screwed shut.

Her injured limb felt like it was on fire from the inside out. Oddly, that was her light at the end of the tunnel.

She followed that common thread, that united dream and reality in a well hidden seam, pulling and pulling until her groggy brain woke up.

“ _Five things you can see_ ”. A voice that sounded like the one in her dream advised her.

Bed frame. Ceiling. Night lamp. Radiator. Curtain

_“Four things you can touch”_

Mattress. Pillow. Hair. Bedsheet.

_“Good. Deep breath. Three things you can hear”._

Wind. Stomach churning. Heart pounding.

_“We’re almost there. Now, two things you can smell”_

Sweat on her quidditch uniform. Rain from outside.

_“One thing you can taste”._

Blood.

Her tongue was swelling already, she must've bitten it.

The fog clouding her vision dissipated, her breathing started to even out.

She tried sitting up, but her tired arms gave out.

That’s how she started her monday. Alone, in the empty hospital wing, jolting awake from a nightmare at 3 am.

Maybe thinking that today was going to be better had been a hastily done statement, because aside from that one bad thing, not much else took place.

She spent the majority of the day drifting off, then waking up again, in an on again off again pattern. 

A total of three things had happened that day, she had found her only entertainment in enumerating them. 

One time, her eyes opened to find Diana’s kind dark ones looking at her from where she was, carefully perched at the foot of the bed.

She loved Diana. Had a brief crush on her back in fifth year and even tried to ask her out, but the girl’s heart belonged to one lucky Steve Trevor, Gryffindor chaser (apparently liking girls who were taken was her thing).

They got past the initial awkwardness though, because Dinah and Helena stepped in to make sure Harley stopped breaking into his common room to put stink bombs under his bed.

She looked up to her, as the girl’s every action was driven purely by love and kindness, something she needed a little more of in her life.

She had come only to bring her a change of clothes, since she knew she would still be wearing her quidditch uniform.

She wasn’t so lucky the second time, when another visitor dropped by.

She looked beside her to find a bouquet of flowers. Blue and white.

Then to the door, where long strands of red hair where floating out behind the retreating shape of a girl stepping through the threshold.

Madam Pomfrey had shaken her awake to administer the second dose of medicine the last time.

Gazing at the handpicked arrangement beside her, Pamela’s voice echoed in her memory

 _“They have meanings”_ she had said, a while ago, back when they only saw each other on saturdays.

Interesting.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She had dropped by right before breakfast on Tuesday, just missing Madam Pomfrey coming in to give her the potion.

The flowers were different this time around. Pink.

_What are you up to, you beautiful woman?_

She was surely onto something, and she made it her mission to figure out what it was. 

Maybe it was her brain trying to come up with ways to keep her entertained in a lonely hospital room with no tv -or any other form of entertainment, really- but she doubted it. 

If she had come to learn something from observing the girl, (and bloody hell did Harley observe her), it was that Pamela Isley didn't do things just because.

Everything, from the way she styled her hair, to the people she surrounded herself with, had a purpose, a reasoning behind it.

That afternoon, when Helena came to visit to see if she needed anything, she only requested one thing.

* * *

  
  


On Wednesday Harley woke up to a tingly sensation on her forearm.

She would've mistaken it for a fly had she not gotten a whiff of the fresh green apple shampoo she had come to love. 

It was so strong and oh god, she must have been so close.

But you see, life was but a chain of difficult choices.

On one hand, she could lay there and pretend to be asleep, let the redhead experience the freedom she must've been feeling thinking no one was watching. 

That would mean sacrificing the visual.

On the other hand she could open her eyes and disturb her peace.

Was this gonna be her Sophie's choice? Luckily this was real life and she could have her cake and eat it too.

She squinted one eye open, trying with all her might to make it seem like she was still sleeping, so hard her head was starting to pound.

It was so worth the effort of straining her eyeball though, because oh...the visual was just majestic.

She found one unsuspecting Pammy with her eyes closed and her with her chin propped on her crossed arms, on the edge of the bed.

Absentmindedly tracing shapes and patterns on the blonde's forearms.

Frank was hanging from her ear, balancing back and forth like he was at a jungle gym, and they looked like a hyper kid and their exhausted mother.

The faint amber glow from the night lamp, reaching where the light from the dark overcast sky coming from the window couldn't, only helped to make the picture that much more adorable, so much so that she just couldn't help herself from opening her other eyelid to better soak it in.

Reaching a hand toward the blanket of red locks splayed on the white bedspread, she started massaging her scalp.

The girl's back tensed and her eyes shot open. 

“Shhh...s’ okay Red. It’s just us” she reminded her. “How long have you been here?” 

She still hadn’t been given her morning dose, so it must've been early.

“Woke up at five and came down as fast as I could” She said through a yawn.

Realizing her slip up she blushed faintly. “I just uh- no, don’t smile like that-”

She couldn’t help it!

“Pammy you don’t happen to be...worried about me, do you”

“Fuck off, you know I am” She shot back, rolling her eyes. “Listen, I just hate that you uh...have to be here all alone. That’s all”

“Mhmm…”

“It’s true! Well that and you also look like shite”

"Yeah? ha. You should see the other guy"

The girl's face fell noticeably with something she hadn’t seen marring her features before. Was it guilt? 

"He uh… he's fine actually…just got a bruised rib. You broke his fall. Landed right on top of you...I’m sorry"

She didn't know why but it seemed very poetic, the fact that she was confined to a bed, in an unbearable pain, while he was out in the world, frolicking through the flowers with the girl whose attention they were in a silent competition for.

And that's exactly what this was at this point, a competition. 

That would explain the increasing amount of time he'd started to demand just as Harley began to take up space in the girl's itinerary.

No one could convince her that he didn't know what she felt for the redhead.

Hell, he would be a shitty boyfriend if he didn't. 

‘ _God knows I would go apeshit’_ she thought.

Because no one would be happy if their girlfriend had a friend who wanted to sweep her off her feet and ride into the sunset with her. Or if she looked at other people the way Pamela would look at her.

Whether it was her hands, or the bob of her throat as she talked. 

She also came to watch her at practice every chance she had, even when Harley had stopped actively having to invite her. She didn’t mind. Being watched made her feel special.

Right now it was different though, because as she stripped her pajama top off to change it she caught a glimpse of the ravenclaw's eyes on the naked skin of her stomach, and she could swear she hadn’t done this on purpose.

She flexed, like testing a theory, and the girl flushed.

Oh.

“It’s not _your_ fault- hey could you-” she pointed to the discarded sweater on the floor beside her bed.

“Yeah!...ahem… yeah...here-”

“-The sweater- thanks-”

“-yeah, yeah no problem.”

“So uh, you bring me any flowers today?” 

* * *

A disheveled looking Helena stepped in the room that afternoon, carrying a book that she chucked at her head as soon as the first joke about wanting to watch next time her and Dinah fucked (“You know, Quinzel, one day I'm gonna take you up on that offer, and that’s when you’ll regret it”).

She opened the copy of ‘The secret language of flowers” eagerly, haphazardly lining up one of each of the flowers she had received.

On monday, she had gotten what looked like blue salvia and white clover, if the images on the pages really did match the specimens she had in front of her.

'I think of you. Think of me', they meant.

Her heart was beating out of her chest already.

On tuesday, there had been pink camellias.

'Longing for you'.

_Pammy that’s so gay._ She thought. She could have cried.

Today’s were purple. Hydrangeas.

'Please understand me'

She did. Oh, how she understood everything, without a single word exchanged.

The message was clear

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Dinah was making this shit so difficult.

Was supporting her really so hard?

She understood her concern, she really did.

Her and Helena had been the two to pull her back from the darkness when she needed it most. Saved her right before she got roped into some heavy shit she really didn’t want or need to be involved in. 

But this was different. Pamela was not Jack. 

And most importantly, _she_ wasn’t that person anymore. It angered her to no end that she didn’t seem to trust her enough, that she refused to acknowledge her growth.

Yes, she still had days where she wondered what he was doing, or if he was thinking of her, but very few and far between.

The guilt and shame she felt though, that still haunted her, and she would always be somehow associated with his name in people’s minds, there seemed to be nothing she could do to keep that from happening. 

Some things you just cannot erase from your past.

What she could do, was move on and vow to be better, and she was really trying, but her friend was really making it hard for her with all this misplaced concern. 

“You don’t know her at all, Harley”

“Oh, but _you_ do!?”

“I know enough! And she’s got someone, why won’t you get it through your thick skull?

“She likes me! She’s been leaving me clues!”

“Listen to yourself! You sound insane!”

That did it.

“What did you just call me?” Anyone who knew anything about Harleen Quinzel knew never to call her that, not to her face. She was seeing red, the rage she always kept simmering in the deepest cavity of her chest was beginning to bubble.

"Get out"

"Harley…"

She felt like her old self when she shot a “No! Stop babying me! I know you don’t have a mom, but quit trying to become mine. _Mine's_ back home”. 

She didn’t feel like she was a better person at all when her friend stormed out of the room with tears in her eyes

  
  
  


* * *

She assigned the task to Diana since there was no way Dinah was going to do it after that whole debacle. 

Ripping the page where the image of the exact flower she needed was represented, she gave her clear instructions.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  


“Friday i’m in love” sang Robert Smith.

He must’ve written the song about them, about this exact moment. 

As Pamela rounded the corner, coming into view that morning, it was evident the streak of bringing her flowers was still going strong, four days in a row.

Though this time, the bouquet was significantly less lush, as half the flowers she needed to use where already in the blonde’s hands.

Her eyes widened in recognition as she processed the view in front of her.

Harley was already awake, sat up on the bed, a megawatt smile splitting her face in two.

“Well good morning, pretty girl!” She sing-songed.

She looked adorable as always, with her messy bed hair, rosy cheeks and glimmering blue eyes.

But what caught her attention were the chrysanthemums in her hand.

'I love you’, they meant. They screamed it, she could practically hear them.

She froze. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would get caught.

“Red, you _chrysanthe-must_ let me take you out!”

Looking back on it, even with the heavy implications this next move was going to have, she didn’t feel as scared as she thought she would.

She scanned her brain momentarily, in search of the smallest trace of fear.

She found none.

“Uhhh...Red? Don’t _leaf_ me hangin’?

"..."

"Get it? _leaf-"_

In the next few moments she realized a couple things about herself.

1- She liked kissing this girl way too much.

2- She hated morning breath.

3- She could excuse Harley’s right now, as the only thing that mattered was the way their lips moved together in perfect synchronicity, like they had been meant to be doing this all along.

4- She really needed to figure out what to do with Harvey

  
  


* * *

It’s crazy how much some things can evolve in just a few days, she thought, watching with a dopey smile as Pamela left half an hour later, red hair a mess, lip gloss (turns out it was cherry all along!) half on her face, half on Harley’s.

Biting her lip, she buried her face into the pillow and squealed.

_I guess actions speak flower than words._

_Damn, that would’ve been a good one!_

  
  
  


  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But tonight, like every night, she was tired, exhausted of pretending, and with the one thing she wanted the most in front of her, she just couldn't stop herself from giving in to her cravings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy harlivy is canon day gays. let's get the show renewed :))
> 
> again, it's 3 am and I did not proof read this as thoroughly as I should have what's new

Generally speaking, she found the act of kissing repulsive.

Why humans' prime response to feeling mutual desire was to smash their mouth holes together, she hadn't the last clue.

It was like a Pandora's box. You never knew _what_ you were going to get, in the worst way possible.

How could you be sure the other person hadn't eaten mustard, or garlic, beforehand.

Or, _Merlin forbid,_ what if they had a virus swimming in their systems? One that could be propagated orally?

How would one even get out of that situation if they simply didn't like the way the other person kissed? How would you recover from the awkwardness?

No, she could barely think about it without gagging. 

Which is why she usually tried to keep it to the bare minimum. Even when having sex, she tried to avoid kissing at all costs.

It also made her feel extremely teenager-like, which she hated, even though she was technically still a teenager. A fact that she also hated.

She didn't want kids to see her performing such an act and get the wrong impression that she was anything like them.

The last thing she needed was for any of these meatbags to think of her as anything less than an untouchable being.

Plus she, unlike them, could keep from having to succumb to her deepest desires in order to survive, which did, in her eyes, make her far superior than say, Selina, who allowed herself to stoop down to Bruce's level in order to get her fix of physical intimacy.

This wasn't a big factor in her relationship with Harvey, if that wasn't obvious by now.

She only did it in public, to keep up appearances. She did have to keep the boy sated so he wouldn't complain and people started talking. 

And it had to be initiated by her, always. No matter how tiring she found it.

She had realized long ago, that if she got both hands on the wheel before anyone else could, she could decide when to stop the car.

And yet right now none of that seemed to matter, she thought, as she sucked Harley's bottom lip in her mouth.

She was sat on the blonde's lap, who in turn was perched atop a questionably clean toilet seat.

It was so unlike her, and yet, her mouth tasted like the chocolate frog she had devoured after their stop at Honeydukes, and she just couldn’t get enough.

Some things were just harder to turn away from. 

"Okay..." The girl panted, pulling away from a kiss that stole all air from her lungs.

"Not that I don't love this, but won't your friends miss us?"

"If by 'my friends' you mean Selina, I think she might have found a way to get her tongue back up Bruce's ass by now" She answered, licking her lips, "So, I think we're clear"

"Yay us!" 

They closed the short distance between them once again, forgetting they had ever stopped. She could've lived in this moment, Harley's mouth slowly moving against hers, in a kiss half innocent, half indecent, as hands started slipping from her hips, dropping lower and low-

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask you!" _Jesus Harley…_

"Sorry heh, just remembered, since you mentioned Bruce and all" The frustration must've been evident in her face.

"They're throwing a party at Gryff tower tonight, I forgot what for but it sounds fun, I uh... was hoping you might wanna go with me?"

"Harl…"

She had to salute herself for having the strength to say no to that face.

"You know I can't… not-"

"-Not yet… I know, I know"

"He did ask me first, too. I just-"

"It's okay Red"

She gently pulled her off so she could stand up.

"I'll see you tonight" Her tone was a little darker, heavier.

Then she just pushed the door open and began her walk out of the establishment and back to the castle.

And just like that, she was alone.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The bass of a familiar muggle song blared from behind the portrait that doubled as a door to the Gryffindor common room, and she suddenly felt like a senior in high school attending a house party.

She could pretend she was back home in Bradford for the night.

It wasn't fully packed yet, it was still pretty early, but she was granted V.I.P treatment since she was cozy with Helena, co-captain of the quidditch team. Practically reigning Gryffindor queen besides the swanky Wayne guy.

Having a good time wasn’t hard, she was friendly with most Gryffs.

She did have a little run in with Dinah. She was reaching for a second solo cup, because she had set the last one on fire in an attempt to do her classic party trick where she turned beer into tequila, and the girl happened to reach for the same one.

Luckily Helena pulled her girlfriend away to dance, not before telling Harley that she had really fucked up. Yeah whatever.

Not even that could pull her out of the good mood the couple shots of the cheap smuggled alcohol had put her in.

What did do the trick though, as she was on the couch, in a deep conversation with the a marble Dumbledore bust, she caught a glimpse of her friend.

She must had just gotten out of patrol duty, as she was still in her uniform. 

Harley would've been embarrassed to have to wear the knife pleated skirt and thick sweater to a party like this one, but not Pamela.

Her robe was undone, and she must have used a temporary shrinking spell on the rest of her clothes, because they were nothing more than a skimpy long sleeved sweater top that stopped only low enough not to be too distasteful, and a skirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Her hips were following the reverb of whatever shitty song was playing, and Harvey was right behind with his arm around her middle.

Now, she had nothing against straight couples! But something told her she would look way better swaying with the woman.

Pushing down the heat emanating from the pit of her stomach, she went to get a refill.

One last cup, and she’ll call it a night, because she couldn’t be in the same room with the redhead looking like that for much longer. Not after knowing that the only thing stopping them from getting together, and becoming the biggest power couple since Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley was a _bloody boy._

That was the initial plan, but then of course, a soft hand wrapped around her wrist and she just knew by the way every hair on her body stood on end that, well, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Long time no see Isley”

“There’s no need for last names, Harleen, everybody already knows we’re close”

“Oh do they? I must’ve gotten the wrong impression when you told me you didn’t want to come with me” And _Harleen? Really?_

“You know that’s not what I meant” The redhead defended, but something in her demeanor was playful, as she took the cup on Harley’s hand and brought it to her lips.

She took a sip with unwavering eye contact and the blonde felt a familiar jolt of electricity run down her spine. 

She was fucked tonight, wasn’t she.

“Oh and what did you mean then? Do tell” She tried displaying confidence but her voice wavered.

“Like I said, he happened to ask first”

“And what if I had gotten there first?” She started, stepping closer, their faces were inches apart now, but the woman didn’t seem uncomfortable. She stood her ground with her chin up. The lights were off after all

“Would you have come with me? Grinded on me like you were doing him just now? Would you have gone off to flirt with somebody else if I was in his place”

“ _Had I been_ in his place” She corrected, with a devious grin. Her breath smelt like alcohol and expensive lip balm, and it was fucking intoxicating.

The redhead was setting up a game for them, Harley understood then. And she just _had_ to win.

The girl started for the door, in a half drunken saunter, and Harley could do nothing but follow.

Hypnotized.

“You see Harl, that’s what I like about him. He’s got a perfect grammar”

They were now outside the Fat Lady portrait, who was too busy shaking her ass to the bass pounding through the door to pay a sliver of attention to them.

“Yeah, about the only thing about him that’s perfect, I reckon” She rolled her eyes and the woman husked out a chuckle that made her hot all over.

“Seriously what do you even see in him? I would’ve thought you strictly let ravenclaws hit it” 

Of course, she knew that wasn’t true.

“Glossing over the fact that you just said I would let anyone ‘hit it’... I don't know where you would get such an idea. Many of my friends are slytherins"

"Oh? and what makes slytherins worthy of Pamela "radical ravenclaw" Isley's, time?"

"Well, they do offer intellectually stimulating conversations"

"Oh pffft… yeah, he seemed _stimulated_ alright-"

“Besides, they just give off an air of sophistication, wouldn’t you agree? Something _other houses_ simply fail at”

What you never did in front of Harley if you wished to live another day, was insinuate that her house was the lesser. Least of all compared to the infamous house of the snakes and traitors.

She walked forward, and suddenly the girl’s flushed body was sandwiched between her and the wall, her head bracketed between the blone’s arms.

“So I’m a hufflepuff, honest and to the point. Maybe I'm too simple for you” The redhead’s hot hands were on her hips now, her brain faltered. “But between you and I? I think I _st-stimulate_ you more than him” she slurred, her tongue felt drunk but her mind was clear. “And if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t turn me away”

There was that goddamn smirk again.

“Wanna test that theory, Harl?”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


Her backside made a slap sound against the wooden desk she had been dropped to sit upon as two chapped lips rejoined hers in a bruising kiss.

She had felt brave and bold in her slightly inebriated state, but then the girl had her pinned against the wall, with a knee between her legs, and just like that, her vision focused once again. 

But like she had said, some things were hard to turn away from, especially when you were burning inside with the need to let yourself consume them, and to let them to consume you in return.

So even though she wasn’t as drunk as she initially thought, she still found herself kissing back, and before she knew it, they were desperately pawing at each other on their way down the grand staircase, in search of _somewhere_ that could shelter their passionate outburst. 

Soon her robe and sweater went flying across the room, and if they landed too close to the fireplace she just couldn't bring herself to care right this second, as blonde hair blinded her vision when the lips moved lower ro _ravage_ her neck and her brain was busy trying to process the pitch of the moan that just escaped her own mouth.

She thought of Harvey and how the last time he did this same thing to her it had felt just horrible. 

That should've been the first sign.

"Fuck, you like this?" the girl grunted against her skin, and she would've shot back a snarky retort, she really would've, had the wetness pooling in her underwear not been a distraction.

"No just let me- no wait this is expensive-"

The buttons of her expertly ironed white uniform shirt went flying in every direction by the force they were ripped with.

Harley stumbled back, clutching her eye. "Merlin are you hurt? Why on earth would you do that?!"

"Sorry hah. Thought it would be sexy" she took a deep breath and stood up straight, her right eye watery and bloodshot.

"Just...get back here" she unclasped her bra and started undoing the knot of her tie when a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Leave that on" her voice was rough with want.

_Fuck._

They resumed their previous position, the blonde between Pam's legs, biting every bit of skin she could reach, hands palming her tits, grunting softly whenever the redhead pulled too hard on her hair.

  
  


Both of them understood the risk of fucking in an empty classroom in the middle of the night of course, so it was logical that things were going to escalate quickly.

No time for foreplay.

Pulling her skirt up with one hand and bringing one of the blonde's down to make contact with her soaked panties with the other, Pamela took control of the situation as much as she could...

...and suddenly lost it once again as two fingers moved the fabric aside and circled her clit, trailed down to gather some of the wetness to ease their way in, and plunged into her, all in the same fraction of a second, it seemed.

"Bloody hell" he gasped, her hands finding their way under Harley's various layers of clothing -how was she completely dressed still?- and burying her blunt nails on the skin of her back, dragging them as she jerked with the force of her thrusts, leaving red trails of raised skin behind.

"Fuck, look how much you like this" she whispered in her ear before sucking the lobe inside her mouth "Harvey's ever fucked you like this? ever get like this for h-".

"Shut the _fuck_ up already" she shot, smashing their lips together, to keep from giving her the benefit of knowing the kind of whimpers she could elicit from her, to keep it from getting to her head. 

Ha, like that was gonna work _now_ , with her inner muscles clenching around the hufflepuff's digits as she was receiving the pounding of her life.

Her skin was just so hot and her abdominals were beginning to strain from contracting and relaxing, but the noises…

_Bloody hell_ , the noises. 

Every stroke sounded just so sinful and somehow that was the one thing she could focus on to keep herself grounded, to keep from reaching her peak way too soon.

Well, that and the way tie was rubbing against the soft skin of her neck from being pulled back and forth, and was no doubt going to leave a burn mark.

That was her train of thought when suddenly a third finger slipped inside and joined the first two in an upward curl as a thumb circled her clit sloppily, and her mind went blank.

  
  


She'd had plenty of sex before, which led her to believe she had probably experienced an orgasm at least one of those times. It was logic, simply a statistic.

Well, she had been wrong in her calculations because while sex before had felt good and enjoyable _holy fuck_ it had never felt like this.

This was rough and sweet, all about _her_.

What she'd always been craving, and Harvey would never be able to give her.

She knew deep down no man ever would.

Suddenly every one of her muscles spasmed and her brain seemed to short circuit, because even though she had been aware that they had to be quiet, that didn't seem to matter as the moan that surged from deep within her chest cut through the otherwise quiet atmosphere like a blade.

She was better prepared when the second one floated out though, muffling it by burying her face on the blonde's shoulder, biting the muscle she felt flexing under the girl’s jacket.

The hand inside her gradually slowed to a stop, helping her ride out her high.

The fingers relocated, suddenly being pushed inside her parted mouth, where she sucked them clean one by one, tasting herself on the blonde's skin while looking her straight in the eye, never wavering, as if daring her to make a comment.

Which, of course, she did.

"I think you like my unsophisticatedness now"

"Lack of sophistication" she corrected, panting back, rolling her eyes.

She knew this probably should've ended right then and there.

Actually it should've ended like 30 minutes ago, before they started desperately tearing at each other in a deserted hallway in the middle of the night.

The more sinister part of her, that liked to play prison guard of her own happiness, keeping it locked away in a cold, dark cell in the furthest corner of her brain, told her it should've ended before it even started, that all of this was just indulgence, and it had gone too far.

Perhaps she should've said no to the girl's every attempt to get close to her, push her away time and time again until she gave up, just like everybody else had in the past. 

Keep her head down until the year ended, graduate, get away and keep her life clean and pristine, exactly the way father chose, the way mother dreamed it, the way it was before. 

  
  


But tonight, like every night, she was tired, exhausted of pretending, and with the one thing she wanted the most in front of her, she just couldn't stop herself from giving in to her cravings.

Reaching out once again, she pulled Harley flush against her skin that still shivered in an attempt to make her inner temperature match with the one outside. 

She could swear they made tiny sparks from the friction they had generated as she lifted the blonde’s shirt over her head, who without missing a beat, climbed into her lap.

Goosebumps raised at the nape of her neck when the girl claimed her mouth once again, rough enough to hurt, then traced the roof of her mouth with her tongue, touch light as a feather. 

The contrast gave her whiplash, and she placed her hands on her ass because she just had to anchor herself to _something._

The blonde took it as encouragement to start chasing her own release, so she slowly began rolling her hips, the kiss only breaking once the pleasure became just too much to bare and the sloppiness made it impossible keep going.

But it was not enough to be completely satisfied, she knew. 

Which is why, when calloused hands closed over her shoulders and started pushing until she was laying flush against the cold table, she simply let them.

As blue eyes looked into her own green ones in a silent question, like trying to make sure this wasn't crossing any invisible lines -as if boundaries were even a thing anymore- she didn't find it in her to refuse, because she didn't _want_ to.

So she nodded and took a deep breath as Harley pulled her Holyhead Harpies themed underwear off, muttering an apology and something about wearing something fancier had she known this was going to happen.

Now, she had never done this before.

Well she had, but she had never been on _this_ side of things (for obvious reasons), but the Hufflepuff didn't seem to notice if the grunt she let out as she lowered herself on top of her awaiting mouth was any indication.

It wasn't as hard as she expected it to be, (not that she had thought too much about doing this in the past).

  
  


She had to recognize how excellent a nurse Madam Pomfrey was, as the girl's leg had been shattered just six days ago, and now here it was, bearing all this movement and never giving out.

Turns out she was pent up enough to be willing to do 80% of the work. Pamela didn't quite know her pace yet, and she was happy to show her.

All she had to do was let the movement guide her tongue where it was needed most.

The back and forth rock of her hips progressively growing faster, more frantic, as the band at the pit of her stomach was stretched too thin, eagerly waiting to be released.

A hand tangled in her hair and she took it as her queue to step in and finally put the girl out of her misery.

Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue just a couple times was enough, apparently, as the movement on top of her face became stronger, more pronounced.

Then, there were three powerful thrusts and before she knew it, the blonde was slumping forward, detaching from her mouth, still moaning as the waves of an orgasm made their course through her body.

Exhaling one last time, she scooted back towards her hips, sitting down like she was before.

She offered her a hand, pulling it to sit her up.

'It's okay' she tried to convince herself, pushing down the impulse to push her off, get dressed and run away after making her swear to never speak of this again.

'This is _okay'._

Allowing herself to be held after being so intimate wasn't something she did, ever, but right now, she needed it.

So she slumped forward into her friend's chest, taking in the distinct sweet scent of her damp skin.

She needed comfort, because as okay as this was, there were still going to be consequences.

Her _boyfriend_ , for one, was still at Gryffindor tower, probably wondering where she was.

Her _mother_ was still home, dreaming of a spotless future for her. 

Her _father_ was still out there, influencing her every move, waiting for her to slip up to beat her back into the shape he had designed for her.

"You good?" asked the girl, clearly sensing she wasn't.

"...yes?" her voice broke, that traitor.

"Red…"

"...no". 

She had never heard herself sound that small before, let alone let other people do so, and she hated herself for it.

But was there anything to hide from Harley anymore? 

Sweet Harley with her brain prone to analysis, who had been so good to her at a time when she had absolutely no reason to be, who had inadvertently opened her to new friendship, by simply offering her a smile, by simply existing.

Who was here, the first person to ever offer her the kind of soft care and affection she was secretly starving for, because even though they didn't really know each other yet, not completely, she appreciated her enough to intuit what she needed.

_'Don't push her away, she cares about you, none of this is her fault'_ she thought.

Nuzzling further into the skin, she closed her eyes as tears stung at their corners.

She held tight, somehow already knowing this woman, right here, would be her only lifeline from here on out.

Then, a whisper blew at her ear.

"I really shouldn't have worn those knickers huh…"

And as she involuntarily chuckled through her tears she thought that if this was the person whose hand she was going to hold as she walked through the fire, maybe things wouldn't be too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi ghaze !! what y'all think about tHAT 🥴👀
> 
> anyway have a nice weekend !! :)
> 
> update: HELPP I just realized I kinda quoted Forrest Gump at the beginning... ????? I never watched that chile..


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe just a little, insignificant slip up in her up until that point, unbroken streak of keeping her life as straight as possible? 
> 
> Well, considering she had spent every free moment of the week since the day they first kissed with the blonde’s mouth on hers, she was beginning to think it was a little bigger than just insignificant, and a little more than just one slip up. A microcosm of them, more like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! it's currently 3:27 a.m so don't ask me to proofread I'll panic about it in the morning. 
> 
> I feel like I just wanted to write fluff when I churned this out, so much so that there's like one blink and you'll miss it line of actual plot but the seed HAS been planted and I WILL see the harvest

"Hey, pretty girl!"

Pamela heard behind her. It was nothing more than usual Harley behavior. The same way she treated all her friends.

She doubted she sat in many of her friend's faces though, and ever since last Saturday that was the only thing on repeat in her mind's eye like a picture show, so she couldn't help but turn beet red. 

It had been a week since _that_ whole thing happened. She still didn’t know what to call it.

A drunken mistake? 

She hadn’t been nearly drunk enough for it to fall under that category.

Just a mistake? 

Nothing that felt that good could be labeled a such a thing. Hell, if anything, it had felt so good that every moment and event in her life prior to that night felt like more of a mistake instead.

Maybe just a little, insignificant slip up in her up until that point, unbroken streak of keeping her life as straight as possible? 

Well, considering she had spent every free moment of the week since the day they first kissed with the blonde’s mouth on hers, she was beginning to think it was a little bigger than just insignificant, and a little more than just one slip up. A microcosm of them, more like.

She wanted to live within that microcosm, where the only three things that existed were Harley, herself, and whatever it was that they shared, because the outside world was just too charged with _shit upon shit_ she had to deal with.

It was now Friday, and like every Friday morning ever since they officially became friends (a relationship title revision might be in order), they were on their way to herbology class.

With her arm linked with the blonde's, she could ignore the inevitable near future that would begin in the next 5 minutes and would last for a good part of an hour, in which she would be confined in a room with both ends of her sentimental spectrum.

So for the remainder of their journey down to the greenhouses she just reveled in the way the blonde skipped excitedly, jerking her forward, babbling about how she had scared a third year into giving her his bacon at breakfast -“His just seemed crispier”-, as if she hadn’t been right there witnessing the entire scene along with everyone in the great hall.

Smiling, she thought she’d let her go on forever, not even bothering with the little voice that warned her against growing too fond on something temporary.

Selina eyed them strangely when she saw them through the glass door. A knowing look that scared her, because exactly _when_ and _how_ did that woman get to know her so well.

But what really made her squirm were Harvey’s brown eyes boring into her soul. 

If there was a trace of suspicion in them, she didn't register it, but the softness of his gaze made her feel undeserving. Something she hated to feel. 

Hated herself for allowing such a thing to course through her body.

So she let go of Harley, who tried to compensate the blink and you'll miss it, (Pamela didn’t miss it) grimace under a wide smile (though she knew instant happiness from the outside in was a myth and not a theory endorsed by psychologists at all).

Briefly pecking him in the cheek, she replaced the blonde’s touch with his and with a deep breath she held until she could no longer feel two blue eyes digging into her back, she stepped inside the greenhouse, visibly relaxing a little as the warm, dense air she loved so much made contact with her skin.

This was her safe space. Maybe her problems couldn’t chase her here after all, she thought.

For her part, Harley, all the way on the other end of the long rectangular room, wished she could think something similar, but the boy was her problem, and he just clung to the redhead like that gross men’s cologne did him and _ugh_ she just _hated_ him.

And this is why she usually tried to keep her anger shackled, because the second that demon monster took over, there was no going back, (not that this was at all in the same vicinity as the things she would do in an angered state).

Perhaps she should feel at least a semblance of guilt instead, but she couldn't bring herself to give a shit, because he was doing it on purpose, _that_ she was sure of.

Maybe she had been wrong in thinking he had deliberately tried to hurt her during the game. 'Ridiculous, Harl' as the redhead herself had put it when she told her.

But had she? 

She knew very well aware of how the human subconscious worked, so she didn't feel too ridiculous thinking that some part of him had been, deep inside, trying to get rid of her. 

It was a great example of unconscious action, and no one could convince her otherwise.

Her brain own unknown desires must have been wanting to fight their way to the surface, because he threw his arm around the redhead’s shoulder, pulling her in as loudly kissing her cheek, and the ceramic pot she had been holding in her hands fucking _exploded._

Maybe it was her repressed need to bash his skull in. _Man, psychology is crazy_ , she thought.

She had been trying extra hard to keep up and meet the class’s standards, but with her brain just a tad messier than usual, it had become really, really hard the past few weeks, and though she had hoped her recent good streak slowly starting to fade had gone mostly unnoticed, _this_ hadn't.

Professor Sprout approached her, asked if everything was alright.

Though her tone was gentle, her gaze was clipped.

The way someone sounds when they have no time to deal with other people’s bullshit, and she felt like disappearing because everyone’s eyes were on her, and not for a reason she enjoyed.

Hunching her shoulders to make herself smaller, she grabbed her wand and muttered a swift “ _reparo_ ” when the woman went back to the lecture, though the rare plant was unsalvageable.

She watched as he slicked his hair back and tried his attempt at a joke (most likely about her) that Pamela didn't show the slightest hint of humor towards and she just couldn't believe that girl would put herself through a relationship like that.

Were their interactions behind closed doors like that as well?

They certainly weren't with _her_ , and that's something she treasured immensely, because she may not be able to display the affection she so wants to, and she may not be the sole focus of the girl's attention in public.

But in private?

Oh, in private Pamela would laugh (and moan, grunt, and other melodious gems, she couldn't quite make out which one she liked more).

In private she could pretend that bellend didn't exist, and the voice that told her to remove herself from the situation as soon as she could because this could only end terribly, -like every other relationship she'd had, romantic or not- was reduced to a mere whisper.

Not that she paid much mind to it anyway.

She enjoyed having Pamela, in whatever way that may be, and she seemed enjoyed having her in return if the scratch marks on her back were any indication.

Of course, she wished to go even deeper, she thought, as the girl’s green eyes looked her way from behind the branch of fluxweed she was smelling. Playful, as if wanting to make her forget the current circumstances.

But this was good enough. 

For now.

* * *

"I think I fucked up real bad with Sprout today" Harley broke the peaceful silence, causing Pamela to look at her half annoyed, half concerned.

"It was nothing, Harls" She said, going back to her book, a muggle classic she borrowed from the blonde. 

Hagrid's cottage seemed bigger without the man inside. He was out of town with Bud, in search of a veterinarian who could treat the dog's most recent hippogriff wound

The fireplace cast them both in a warm blanket of amber in their place on the floor, Pam sitting with Harley's head on her lap, their cheeks flushed from the cozy heat as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky outside.

"It could've happened to anyone" Absentmindedly threading her hand through the tangled blonde locks, she focused on the words on the page.

"Even you?"

"hmmm... perhaps not _everyone"_

"You didn't see the look she gave me Red. She was like 'well...the clown's back'"

That caused her to chuckle, but pulling her eyes away from the text she caught the girl's pout, her eyes drowning.

"Hey" She started softly. Touching a finger to her forehead, behind her wispy bangs, and dragging it over the bridge of her nose, all the way to the tip, where she replaced it with her lips.

"I'm sure she's just stressed about midterms, honey"

Harley wasn't sure the girl wanted to stop her from breaking down in a sob or not, because that was almost where she lost it.

_Honey..._

"But she doesn't even have to take them?" 

"I'm aware. But isn't she the one supposed to get us ready for them? And to squeeze every last concept in before N.E.W.Ts too"

"I just... She's the head of my house, and it's my last year, Red. I don't want to leave here without making her proud...she's the only reason I'm still here."

That last part caught her attention. Her hand stilled its movement on the girl's scalp, her brain momentarily glitching. She tried, briefly, to connect the dots to map the answer to a question that had been begging to be asked for long time. But now wasn't the right moment,- clearly, it had slipped out without her realizing it-, so she decided to archive it for later.

Now, her role was different: to comfort.

"Harley, you're doing so good. You may have needed help in the beginning, but trust me, you were never a _clown,_ or whatever. I've always known you were capable, even back when I couldn't really stand you-"

"-When you were compensating for the fact that you like me?"

"..."

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me!"

"...Can I keep going or..."

"Yes, please. Sorry" She chuckled, though her throat still felt wobbly.

"Even back then, I knew you were capable, I wouldn't have helped you otherwise. So even though I highly doubt that's what this was about, fuck Sprout if she can't see your progress. I can"

_I can- I can- I can._ Echoed in Harley's mind, her heart burned and bled with yet another strong emotion she wasn't ready to inspect just quite yet.

So did Pamela's, so instead of thinking about it she leaned down, trapping her lips,

Every time it was different, sometimes felt like breathing after a long time of holding your breath underwater, others it was rough, seeping passion through the seams.

This kiss though, it was unlike any other. 

A tender thing that tasted of bubblegum and strawberry lip gloss.

Slow and languid, no intentions to go further, and nowhere else to go.

Right now, Harley wanted Pam and Pam wanted Harley.

And it was good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bye have a good Friday !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela hated quidditch. She had found a few redeeming qualities in it as of late though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Said on twitter I was gonna upload this last night but I fell asleep teehee.
> 
> I think this one's the longest chapter I wrote so far which is cool for me, congratulate me!!!

_"Seems like our favorite Hufflepuff beater's back in action after her unfortunate accident during the last match! We're happy to have you back Quinzel!"_ excitedly pointed the commentator.

A tall, lanky, John Doe looking sixth-year Hufflepuff with the frustrated dream of playing on the team. 

Bravely asked Pamela to the Yule Ball two years ago. 

_Way too much confidence_ , she thought, watching the outwardly way he moved.

Or perhaps he just liked to be publicly humiliated. If that was the case he had certainly gotten his fix back then, when Selina, always beside her, just about busted a lung laughing at his proposal and Pamela just side-eyed him and kept walking.

Though as the team started trickling out of their tent and into the field, she noted that extroversion seemed to be a general trait of the house, as Harley, goggles on her head and spinning her bat, spurred the audience on with big gestures of her arm.

How something that she hated so much in a man could look just so fucking sexy in a woman, she hadn't the last clue. And she didn't want to think about the real answer. 

Not in public at least-

“Her broom’s different than usual” 

“Merlin’s bollocks Barbara!” She turned to the girl, who, as per usual, materialized out of thin air.

“Hello to you too, Pam, gee. Thanks for saving me a seat”

“I was saving it for Harvey…” she muttered, crossing her arms. Of course, she was endlessly grateful for the girl’s sudden apparition, but she wasn’t going to let her know that, they were dueling rivals after all.

“Well sucks to be him. He’ll feel just as cozy in the Slytherin bleachers I’m sure” 

At that moment, donning blue, the rival team - _her_ team -, walked up to the center of the field, in an effortless-looking diamond formation. She rolled her eyes at the eccentricity, even she could admit (never in front of Harley) that they did just too much sometimes.

The girl in pigtails down on the grass seemed to be thinking something along the lines because she threw her head back and her throat bobbed as she laughed in sheer disbelief, drawing a dangerous look from Dinah. “Somethings off between them” Barbara pointed.

“Yeah, no shit, your detective skills are blowing my mind” 

“I’m just saying, we have a great chance at winning today” 

Of course, she caught the wistful way her friend looked at the players mounting their brooms. The girl’s skin seemed to be itching with the need to reach out a hand and merge with the air like a bird once again, but she quickly hid it under a screech of “GO DICK!”

Pamela herself was pretty excited at the prospect of Harley finally shutting up about Hufflepuff being better than Ravenclaw at quidditch, but she wouldn’t be caught dead cheering ‘Go Dick’ of all names…

Both teams mounted their brooms and stomped on the ground to take flight.

Madam Hootch tossed the ball in the air and Lance and Grayson started both started a sky-bound vertical race to the sky to settle which team would get to make the first play.

He got there first, Dinah’s fingers missing it by a hair. 

Without missing a beat, he started towards the hoops, dodging player after player like it was absolutely nothing.

Barbara was right, Dinah _was_ off her game, too busy yelling directions at Harley as she hovered over her to do anything about the impending first goal flying towards their scoring area.

_"Ten points for Ravenclaw, only thirty seconds in! Beautifully executed Grayson! Looks like the team's been training ladies and gentlemen"_

"I told you" Singsonged the girl beside her.

“Way too clever by half Babs” 

“Pause. _Babs?_ “

“What? Everyone calls you that. I’m merely following the herd. And anyway...let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, the game’s just started”

“Look at Allen. New seeker, he’s faster than anyone I’ve seen in a long time!” The younger girl pointed over to where the boy was zig-zagging between players with his eyes fixated on the snitch, Beecher was flying close above him, waiting for the right moment to insert herself between him and the golden ball.

“He’s not fast. The broom is, in any case.” Pamela brushed off, but she couldn’t fake too much indifference. The boy _was_ flying fast.

“Wrong. Brooms aren’t too different from wands. The owner must have a bond with it in order for it to work properly. Case in point... look” Her eyes followed the girl’s gaze to where Harley was, shaking the stick of her broom (borrowed from Madam Hootch’s practice broom closet) up and down, upper lip curled in anger. “Didn’t her Nimbus break when she fell? Look how she’s struggling to make this one cooperate. They’re not connecting”

Clearly, they weren’t, as she was now hanging upside down...was the broom riding _her?_

“Connection. That’s what quidditch is all about” Barbara concluded her explanation right in time for their team to score another 10 points.

She was right. The opponent, usually a well-oiled machine, was simply not connecting today.

“Eyes on the game Quinzel!” Yelled Dinah as the crowd cheered. Her face contorted in anger and frustration.

Well, if she was angry, Harley was fucking sizzling, steaming out the ears.

“You see what I’m working with?! Give me a break!”

“I decide when you get a break! Do your job! Defend!”

Something snapped inside Pamela, because the way the blonde’s jaw set was just... it was _hot._ And the fact that she was barking back at Dinah…she was very glad Harvey was sitting somewhere else.

Eyes narrowed with intensity, she leaned forward and moved towards the center of the field, ready to give the game her all.

Of course, the carnage was just beginning, and she felt the slightest bit guilty for not knowing how good her own team was.

It seemed that with every ten points Hufflepuff scored, thirty by Ravenclaw followed.

* * *

Harley _was_ playing better but seemed to find a better strategy in batting every bludger Barry Allen’s way, in hopes that she would get him and Karen would be the one to catch the snitch.

This proved to be yet another problem for them, as their team was now one beater down with Anders being carried off the field for failing to dodge a rogue bludger, which meant Harley’s new role was to play for both of them.

_“Looks like Lance has called a time out by Prince’s request. Things look bad for the badgers today. Will they be able to figure things out during the break?”_

Upon landing, Diana grabbed Harley and Dinah by the backs of their necks, pushing them forward and into the changing tent.

“What’s going on out there?” She asked once they were inside and out of sight. 

With her hands on her hips, towering over her, she reminded Harley of when Sharon would get mad at her brother and her when they were little. Somehow this was way scarier.

“They’re crushing us! That’s what’s going on!”

“Oh! And whose fault is that?”

“Yours?! You’re supposed to be defending instead of practicing your aim on Allen’s head!” 

Dinah was now nose to nose with her, for the first time in weeks facing each other, and as her brown eyes burned into hers, it was taking absolutely everything within Harley not to beat the shit out of her. She withheld simply because they were technically still friends.

“We would’ve lost already if it wasn't for me-”

“Enough!”

Both their eyes widened like plates, because Diana never raised her voice. 

Harley wasn’t sure if that was sweat running down her leg, or if she had _actually_ pissed herself.

“Quit acting like petty children! Both of you! We’re a _team,_ we’re _friends._ Let’s act like it. You-” she jabbed Harley’s chest with her pointer finger and ‘ _ouch, why did that hurt so bad’._ “-we trust you to do your job, let Karen do hers….And You-” now Dinah “If you’re not fit to lead the team today, I will. Just cool down and get back out there. And for Merlin’s sake, stop screaming”

With that, she stepped away to go drink some water.

The blondes sat on the bench, far enough apart so that they could pretend like the other didn’t exist.

Their ten minutes had come to an end, and Harley was the last one to step back into the pitch.

Looking out into the crowd, she saw Pamela.

Her team was playing against hers, but she wasn’t a quidditch fan. 

She had come for her, exclusively. She wanted to see her play, so she was going to play.

She waved, and if she recognized the face beside her she ignored it, because _not right now._

Both teams mounted again, and the game resumed.

They were still a little off-balance fresh from the time out, so Ravenclaw scored another twenty back to back.

Victor Stone got the quaffle, and she was just about to throw her bat to the ground in defeat and call it a day when a blur of yellow intercepted his powerful right hook shot midair.

_“Lance has blocked the unblockable throw! She’s speeding down the pitch! Watch out Ravens, whatever happened in that tent, it was magic!”_

Grayson was on her rear, so kicking back into gear, she tried to follow them, but the old broom she was on refused to go any faster. So moving at half her usual speed, she gripped her legs tight around the stick and hit the bludger with all her might.

She didn’t hit him, but the ball did pass him close enough to get him off Dinah’s tail.

A chest throw once she was close enough to the hoop was enough to score.

Seemingly sensing the shift, the crowd cheered 

“ _Yellow and black, The badgers are back”_

And with the way Pamela was looking at her, soft yet fiery, like both the angel and the devil on her shoulders…

"Yup...I gotta win this thing" She said to herself.

* * *

Pamela hated quidditch. Something she inherited from her mother.

It just seemed like the stupidest thing, watching fourteen blockheads chasing after a ball to see who can get it through a hoop the most. Which most times didn't even matter, because it was almost a hard fact that whoever caught the snitch first was the winner. Rare was the occasion where catching the little winged ball didn't affect the final result.

So what was the point in everything else? Why wasn't the game just that, racing after the snitch?

It was all brunt and no brain too, which of course, she detested.

That's why she favored dueling, because one had to be as much connected with their environment as with their own minds in order to do the right move. Very mentally stimulating, much like chess, another sport she liked to partake in (it _is_ a sport!).

She had found a few redeeming qualities in it as of late though. And while it didn’t stimulate her brain, it certainly stimulated _other_ areas.

Watching Harley in her element simply did things to her, it ignited a flame deep inside the pit of her stomach one so strong that no matter how tight she squeezed her thighs together, it just refused to be extinguished.

She had never seen her play so well either, and if anything, the slowness of the broom only allowed her to watch her better.

Her face was flushed and her bangs were in complete disarray, some strands sticking to her face with sweat despite the wind. That and the combination of the unwavering concentration in her eyes, and the muscles of her sharp jaw flexing, was enough to make Pamela feel an array of things she absolutely should not be feeling with the entire student body present.

But if controlling her arousal was hard before knowing every ridge, dip, and hard place on her body was difficult, now that she did, the whole thing was becoming unbearable.

She was seriously considering grabbing a broom and jumping on the pitch to put an end to this once and for all, when everyone got on the edge of their seats, as the two seekers were now nosediving in a straight line to the floor.

Allen was closer, almost there, she swore Barbara was about to implode beside her, but as everyone was too busy with their eyes on the pair, they missed the movement overhead, where Harley caught a bludger with her bare hands, tossed it, and hit it with a loud grunt that cut through the air of the pitch that none of them realized had grown still.

It brushed the rear end of his broom perfectly, not enough to hurt, but just right to send him spinning out of control, and out of the way. 

Forcing the broom forward a few inches, the girl closed her hand over the golden ball.

“ _She’s done it, ladies and gentlemen! Beecher’s caught the snitch, beautifully aided by none other than our favorite beater, freshly recovered from a terrible injury! Thank you Quinzel! Thank you, Beecher! Oh, what a turn of events, I could cry”_

She turned to Barbara.

“So, Gordon, you were saying?”

* * *

“You were good today, Quinzel” The voice carried from somewhere behind them.

She was finishing shaking the hand of Ravenclaw’s goalkeeper, who muttered a ‘good game’ before heading towards the castle.

She turned around, tossing a “You too Sof”, over her shoulder as she faced her.

“Thanks. I missed you today” She said, throwing her arms around her, nuzzling her neck. They were alone, well hidden from prying eyes outside the pitch, so she held her back as she chuckled.

“You saw me at breakfast” 

“Still. I miss you all the time”

“Walk with me then?”

Linking their arms tight together the way they liked, they strolled aimlessly through the grounds in silence, stealing furtive looks and counting every time they got caught.

So far, the redhead was losing.

“That was a nightmare out there Red. I’m telling you, I was this close to giving up” She demonstrated, pinching her pointer finger and thumb together.

“Very non-Hufflepuff of you…”

“I know! Diana had to kick our asses into gear. It was terrifying”

“My friend was sure we were going to win. I have to be honest...I believed her for a second”

“Oh? Well, your friend was wrong”

She stopped near a familiar tree and that’s how they realized they had somehow arrived at the edge of the forest. This was the spot where they almost kissed for the first time, where Frank had come from.

“She sure was. But can I be honest?” She asked stepping closer. Their noses bumped together.

"Wasn’t really paying attention to the game”

“And wh-” She had to stop to clean her throat, suddenly dry and chalky. “What were you doing then? You looked entertained”

“Mhm, I was” Pamela nodded, biting her lip. “Remember what you said, right before you first fucked me”

_Jesus Christ_

“About you _stimulating_ me? There certainly was some of that involved”

“Yeah?” She was burning now too, reeling from the post-match adrenaline. The dam was about to break. “I win the game _and_ make you enjoy it in the process? What’s my prize?

Instead of getting a response, her back collided against the trunk, hair sticking to the bark.

Her lips could’ve sung a whole opera by themselves as the redhead’s mouth came in contact with hers. They had spent most of yesterday’s afternoon making out in their bathroom stall at the three broomsticks, then at Hagrid’s cottage, and still, it had been too damn long with no contact.

She brushed the plump bottom lip with her tongue, -today it tasted like vanilla-, and as the girl opened her mouth to let her in, she came to the conclusion that the quidditch cup could get fucked, she’d win every game just for this.

Kissing would have honestly been enough, but then she bit Pamela’s lip, and the moan she let out made her reach out for something to hold on to.

Her hands involuntarily (subconsciously?) landed on her ass, and she thought _‘might as well’_ and squeezed as much of it as she could grab.

That’s how things started escalating.

Pamela let out a second moan, which only spurred Harley on.

Spinning them around, she no longer was being cornered.

The girl cinched a leg around her hip, securing her in place, - as if she’d ever want to leave- and bucked upwards, searching for some friction.

Nipping her earlobe, then her neck above the scarf, she started her trek down the girl’s body.

Her cold hands found their way under her sweater, and Pamela yelped. It quickly turned into a grunt that Harley harmonized with as her hands cupped her over the bra.

They must have been too cold, or maybe the redhead was just _that_ horny, because her nipples were peeking from under the fabric.

She had to stop to take a breath, because the whole thing was already way too fucking hot, when the girl’s hands traveled down.

She expected to be rubbed through her pants but that never came. After a few seconds, she dared look down. 

When people use the expression “Soul left my body”, they must be referencing her, in this exact moment, because that’s the only idiom she could use to describe what she felt when she saw the following picture: Pamela Isley, hand shoved down her own pants, head thrown back in pleasure.

Something inside her brain broke beyond repair at the sight, and she wanted it to stay that way.

“Fuck, Red” She rasped, hands now skin to skin with her tits, squeezing gently.

The girl’s hand sped up, accompanying the new stimuli. 

She wanted to kiss her really badly, but her need to watch was stronger, so of course, it won.

Leaning back, but her ministrations on her chest never ceasing, she just enjoyed the show as the movements turned frantic and progressively sloppier.

“ _Harley, I’m-”_

“You look so fucking good, Red”

The air stilled, as Pamela let one last silent moan, a huff of air, so hot it turned to steam as in touched the cold air.

The girl slumped back into the trunk. Someone's heart was hammering in their chest. They were so close Harley wasn't sure if hers or Pamela's.

“Did you just?-”

“...yeah” She answered, breathlessly”

She grabbed her hand by the wrist and brought it back up. Putting it up to her mouth she licked each finger from top to bottom.

The redhead's eyes were glossy by the time she finished with both of them, not having blinked a second.

Remembering their whereabouts, she looked around. The tree they were behind was huge, enough to hide them from plain sight. Not that anyone would have half a mind to be roaming the edge of the woods in this climate. She thanked her luck for looking out for her, because in this state there was no way either of them could be alert enough to be on the lookout for spies or curious eyes. 

They kissed again, slower and out of breath. Her legs were practically jelly, but thankfully Harley was there to keep her from slipping down. 

She fixed her yellow sports robe, pulling it tightly around the girl's frame. The last thing they needed was to catch a cold at the same time.

“All that for a sport you hate?” She snickered, licking a strip from her neck to her earlobe.

“Shut up" Pamela shot down. "I like _you_ in that uniform”. Undoing her pigtails and running a shaky hand through her disheveled hair, she let her leg fall from where it was propped.

“Enough for a second round? I feel responsible… let me help you clean up”

“Yuck. I didn’t like that one” She said, fake gagging at the line as the blonde pulled her pants down. She shivered as more skin was exposed to the harsh late November weather.

“Yeah, not my best work”, Harley admitted, kneeling down.

Harvey had done this to her before, so she thought she knew what to expect.

As soon as the blonde licked her through her underwear, she found out she was wrong. 

And nothing could have prepared her for the way her tongue felt against her once the item of clothing was discarded, thrown somewhere in the snow-covered floor.

She fought the urge to close her eyes, because Harley seemed to be seeking eye contact.

She found that made the whole experience a thousand times better.

The girl lifted her leg once more, hooking it over her shoulder, spreading her open.

She would’ve felt uncomfortable and self-conscious, but this was Harley. She’d had this woman fully sit on her face, then hold her as she cried immediately after, a week ago.

Plus, her brain was preoccupied thinking about how if that time was incredible, this was beyond words, to multitask and worry about her inner demons.

With the tip of her tongue, she circled around her clit, but when she thought the best part was coming, she dipped back down.

“ _Harley, I swear on everything…”_ She warned, tangling her hand in the blond locks once more and pulling.

She wasn’t ready for her to obey so quickly though, and as she came in contact with where she needed her most, she couldn’t do much to suppress the moan that emanated from her soul.

They were lucky Hagrid was still traveling...

Harley was fully moaning and grunting as well, and just the possibility that this was just as good for the blonde as it was for her could’ve sent her over the edge.

It didn’t.

What did, was the single digit that had been teasing her entrance finally plunging in as she sucked her clit in her mouth, followed by a second, then a third.

She felt full of Harley, and she wanted her everywhere, for as long as she could, so she tried to last a little longer.

She only made it so far. She came for the second time.

* * *

“What’s with us and having sex with our clothes on in strange places?” She asked later that night as they wandered the seventh floor.

“I kinda like it” Answered the blonde nibbling on a chocolate bar she'd stolen from the kitchens on her way up.

She had sneaked out of her common room to spend time with her as she walked her rounds. 

They just couldn’t get enough.

“Explain”

“It makes it feel like you wanted me so bad you couldn’t wait a second longer. Like you were so desperate for me to fuck you we just did it on the spot”. 

It was the nonchalant way in which she said it, as if the words tumbling from her mouth were just mundane, everyday things one could speak out into the world without a second thought.

Pamela felt the flame inside rekindle, for what must’ve been the thousandth time that day

A door materialized on the wall behind them, and without missing a beat, she grabbed Harley by the robes and pulled her inside.

They were in for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bitches were so horny they found the room of requirement good for them!!!
> 
> not my biggest stan making a cameo in this... it's actually sick and twisted


	13. Chapter 13

Her days always started as early as she woke, which usually meant being up and about before the sun rose.

A fairly recent habit that crawled under her skin and became incarnate within her after years of living alert, every hour of every day. Born during a time where every shadow seemed to chase her and her nightmares threatened to seep into real life if she didn’t keep her eyes open.

She didn’t mind though, not really. The quietude of the castle early in the morning, when every other soul between the stone walls slept, it brought a sense of comfort to her.

It gave her time to think, to gather strength for the day, to be ready to meet pitiful stares with her chin up, battle them with confidence. 

The place itself made her feel well guarded, taken care of.

The rest of the world, wizarding or not, could be a dangerous chaos at all times, but right here, under Headmistress McGonagall's watchful eye, there was no place safer.

She ran into the woman on her way down from the common room. Already dressed for the day in a dark emerald green dress robe, not a hair out of place under the witch hat elegantly perched on her head, tilted to the left like she was the lead in an old Hollywood movie. She moved through space like she was one too, resembling a cat, the dictionary redefined what poise meant with every step she took.

She greeted her with a tiny nod and a tight-lipped smile, told her to be at the great hall by breakfast, and kept it moving.

McGonagall was a seeker, during her time as a student. It was evident in the distinct way she carried herself, quick on her feet and spry despite her age. 

Watching her leave, she wondered if she still harbored such a quality deep inside, and as she rounded a corner she caught a glimpse of the trophy display shelf. Reading her own name in one of the cups catapulted her back to that time, her body felt warm at the reminder of that victory, the glory was almost palpable. But the stark reminder that such a time would never come back, and that the only agile thing about her at this point was her mind, quickly crept back inside her.

It forced her back to reality.

Generally, she tried not to allow herself too many moments of reverie. What would that amount to? Was it wise to allow herself to evoke those fantasies? How would daydreaming help her now?

It wouldn’t.

There was no helping Barbara Gordon.

She was already on the first floor when she realized she should’ve grabbed a thicker coat, but the familiar zooming sound called to her.

She followed it outside.

It was snowing slightly and her gloveless hands burned as the skin on her palms stretched painfully against the wheels of her chair as she pushed on forward.

What she encountered as she made it to the pitch made her heart bungee jump inside her ribcage - Not out of fear or shock, not in the weird way anger could send your insides in a whirl- This felt like the excitement of a groundbreaking discovery. Like getting to witness something magical in the making.

She had never known what to make of this girl, she mused, watching her twirl in the air.

She was a troubled soul, that much was clear. 

Barbara had spent a total of twenty minutes in Jack Napier’s presence, and she barely made it out alive, so he kind of horrors this girl had most likely endured were hard to fathom. 

Still, the little head of curiosity perked up every once in a while, urging her to investigate. Which more often than not lead to wondering where the girl landed within the moral spectrum.

She could very well lean closer to the evil end than she let on, so she had always kept her distance.

But on the other hand, there was a solace of sorts in the idea that there was someone out there who had been harmed by that vile soul as well, even if their scars weren’t as apparent.

The heavy chains of pain tethered them to each other. 

There could be beauty in that. Together they could've healed, the poets in her favorite books would say.

But Barbara was no poet, and she wasn't as open as she used to be, so instead, she pushed the opposite direction, because experience had taught her to be careful. Mistrustful.

There had been a change in her though- Barbara thought, as the girl cursed at her borrowed broom, trying to make it to faster-, and if her sleuth eye didn't fail her, she could be sure her redheaded friend had something to do with it.

Her eyes seemed clearer, determined, and her smile genuine, and Barbara may not trust easily but for reasons still beyond her, she trusted Pamela and her judgment.

That and she had a soft spot for quidditch, and Harleen Quinzel was the fiercest player to set foot on the pitch, since Barbara started school at least, and as loyal as she was to Ravenclaw, her instincts whispered that she had run into this scene for a reason.

That's why instead of turning around and heading back inside, she stayed.

Because she had a knack for helping those in need, and if somebody needed help, it was this girl right here. So she put her photographic memory to good use that morning, memorizing every move, mentally noting every mistake she found, every little thing that could be improved on. 

That splintered broom was first on the list, she decided, watching from the shadows as the broom stopped abruptly mid-air, sending the blonde flying through the air like a bird -" _Arresto momentum"._ She whispered, clutching her wand. The last thing she needed was another week in the hospital wing-.

She was an over-eager player. Always rushed. A good beater should move quick but think slow, take time to calculate each motion, as any poorly mapped movement could be lethal for other players on the field. _"Would make an excellent chaser though"._ She muttered to herself as her teeth chattered from the harsh cold.

When the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, she chalked it up to the cold as well, too in her own world.

But then a shiver ran down her spine, and something told her to get inside as the overcast sky darkened.

Harley must've felt the shift as well, descending from where she was midfield, and dismounting in two swift motions, her red cheeks suddenly drained from all pigment.

Her heart sped up once again, but this time it did feel like fear.

She looked around once, twice, for good measure before quickly apparating back inside.

* * *

The feeling was hard to shake, but sometime during the day, without her noticing, it slowly retreated into the back of her mind, replaced by her new mission.

That afternoon, she ignored her roommate's inquisitive looks as she apparated back into her room right before dinner, with a large package from her quick trip to Hogsmeade.

"It's nothing" She shot half-heartedly at the four pairs of eyes eyeing her suspiciously, opening the window to call her owl.

It didn't help her case that one of the girls she roomed with was Ravenclaw’s goalkeeper, of all people, and the package certainly didn't look like 'nothing' to her, but if she noticed, she didn't say a word.

She didn't say a word either when her owl dropped that exact same kraft paper wrapped package on top of the Hufflepuff table the next morning at breakfast.

She did shoot her a nasty look when the girl squeaked and Charles Brown yelled " _Holy shit, Quinzel got a Firebolt!",_ to which she simply answered with a quiet "Shut the hell up, Sof" 

And she thought for a second that perhaps the entire table had heard her, as everyone quieted over slowly. 

Looking to her right, she found a group huddled over a fourth-year girl holding a newspaper, eyes round as plates.

Then the quiet whispering started, which of course spread like wildfire in a room full of nosy teenagers.

The first one to react was Bruce, banging his fist on the table in anger. His eyes were racing back and forth, already looking for a solution to this problem.

Then, footsteps approached the door at a rapid pace, and she shifted the course of her gaze just in time to catch Harley bolting outside.

Everyone sat back and stared as Pamela, in a rare, careless display of utter worry ran after her, without missing a beat.

She also noticed the shadow behind Harvey Dent's eyes all the way from the Slytherin table, as he eyed the door they'd just disappeared behind.

Barbara just watched, because she couldn't bear to listen to the murmurs.

She made eye contact with Bruce's concerned gaze and she felt sick, so she looked down, but perhaps she shouldn't have, perhaps she could have avoided the situation just a little longer, drag on this limbo state she was in a few more seconds.

Someone tossed the newspaper to her, it stopped its slide on top of the table right in front of her.

She gulped down bile as she forced her eyes to read the front page.

_' **Jack Napier escapes Azkaban** ' _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !! sorry I took a bit long to update. promise to be back soon. have a great week y'all!!


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